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Golgotha of the Heart 

(DES HERZENS GOLGOTHA.) 

BY 

HANS WACHENHUSEN. 

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THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


CHAPTER I. 

There are other deaths than that which we die, and 
one of those I have lived for months. Death is often a 
happy release, but life without any aim, without any 
value, without any communication with the outer world, 
that nervous, painful existence, is a torment. 

Three months have I been buried. My grave is beau- 
tiful, it is true; a paradise. But is there a greater pun- 
ishment for a captive than the constant sight of the 
beauty of a world which has been taken from him? 
Well he knows in this paradise which lies before him, he 
has sinned, failed, and offended! Others pollute it 
daily by their desires, their passions, and their vices. 
Whilst the church-bell in my paradise calls to devotion, 
whilst hundreds bow humbly before their Maker and 
whisper fervent prayers, whilst the priest pronounces 
the benediction, the curse in its old, accustomed activity, 
the curse of Cain, which clings to us all, is working. 

Why am I buried alive? I seem to myself often a 
suicide, a criminal, who attempted my life, and ask 
myself why I did it? It was not from weariness, not 
from despondency, but only in consequence of the reflec- 
tion that it is permitted a combatant to withdraw from 
the fray as soon as his strength gives out. 

Perhaps I may be called cowardly because I did not 
make another effort. It may be wrong to throw down 
one’s weapon, and not to try a last resort, to give up all 

( 6 ) 


6 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

hope at the age of twenty. It is even possible that the 
faint-heartedness of my childhood’s playmate, whose 
ideas influenced mine, still clings to me to-day. Eugenie, 
as a child, was accustomed to defend herself as long as 
it did not cost her any great effort; then she would sigh 
“ Cest plus fort que moiT and lay her hands in her lap. 
All about me is so quiet, so death-like. In the evening 
only, when the moon floods the Eden at my feet in its 
silvery light, when the nightingales sing in the park 
trees, when the mist in the valley covers everything with 
a veil through which the moonbeams glimmer, only in the 
evening, it seems to me as if all who have been buried in 
the convent appear like the ghosts in “Robert,” and 
when I flee from them, when I stand at my window and 
look down upon them as they hover about the grounds, 
I feel as if they must vanish into their graves on the 
stroke of the bell. 

And are they all not more or less buried as I am? 
Did not a moral death lead the majority of them here, a 
death, the secret of which they would all gladly have 
hidden, but which the superior found out in its smallest 
details? 

There are eighteen of us here, all silent, lifeless, blood- 
less; I would say, automatons, that move by mechanism. 

I often think that some are still capable of sympathy. 
But it is only a semblance, only a former habit, which 
they have brought to the grave with them, for inwardly 
they are without feeling. 

Even bad qualities are dead in them; in the grave 
there is no more envy, no desire, no passion, for the 
motives are wanting which arouse them. 

Poor sisters! If I could take an intere.st in any one 
of you, it would be in Stephanie, because she is so soli- 
tary and strange. 


7 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

She, who to my astonishment put in an appearance 
here several weeks ago, is the only one who really 
brought a romance with her. All the rest are common- 
place souls who are made miserable by the same weighty 
reasons w'hich cause a child to cry when his toy is taken 
from him. 

Perhaps I seem just the same to Stephanie. It is 
impossible for either of us to approach the other, although 
we might wish to do so. The superior treats her just 
as she does me — that is, with a certain respectful reserve, 
while she regards the others as her special wards. 

It is strange that fate should have thrown us together 
here! Stephanie did not suspect that I had watched 
her in the night when she had stolen out into the garden, 
and to that night do I owe the key to her secret. 

Neither of us had the least suspicion of the interest 
which linked us together — no, that is a terrible thought 
— two corpses that must be antagonistic in the grave, 
and hate one another in this life. 

Since that night there has been no rest for me! From 
that moment it is no death that I live; it is a four- thou- 
sandfold torment into which I have innocently plunged. 
And what lies beyond my apparent death? Salvation? 
The gates of hell? 

I have kept a diary during the three months of my 
retirement. I have written down everything, for I look 
upon it as my memoir. I have no idea of what has hap- 
pened since the night when I watched Stephanie. All 
is dark; my mind wanders helplessly from one thought 
to another. There is no more peace for me. 

But I will force myself to read through my diary, live 
through it again, and then decide if I acted for the best, 
if I could have done otherwise. Often, yes, always, it 
seems to us a day, even an hour, later, as if we might 


8 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

have done differently. We ask, shrinking from ourselves, 
Why did I not do thus or thus? We discover an expe- 
dient, which in the infatuation, in the excitement of the 
moment, we did not think of, or which seemed to us 
objectionable. And yet, I know that I could not have 
done otherwise; that I was only wTong in one thing — in 
the choice of a refuge, where I found just the person 
whom I wished to avoid. 

I dread stepping over the threshold of my hermitage. 

I might meet her. Even the atmosphere seems poison- 
ous, because I breathe it with her. I start out of my 
sleep, and see her, hear her voice. I imagine I hear 
light footsteps, as if she ^were stealing to my bedside, 
bending over me, whispering in my ear. 

I know I have grown morbid since that night; if I 
could only succeed in quieting my nerves! 

I need air! It is close in my bedroom; even the 
night air is sultry. Behind the hills the sun is sinking 
and its rosy light is reflected on their summits. The 
tinkling of the sheep-bell sounds to my ear like the knell 
of the doomed criminal; the whistling of the wind in the 
trees below, the twittering in the bushes that formerly 
had such a soothing effect upon me, now whisper so 
suspiciously, so incomprehensibly, so cunningly, I might 
say — and down there, where the meadows meet the 
brook, where the path planted with honeysuckle wunds 
down to the pond, a tall, darkly-clad figure looms in 
sight. She stoops; she picks one of the rare blossoms 
which the superior tends so carefully; she tears it to 
pieces, and throws it contemptuously from her. She 
looks back cautiously, as if she fears being watched; 
now she steps amongst the underwood; she takes the 
road to the village. I feel easier, now that I do not 
see her. To me she is like an evil demon, yet she is 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


9 


beautiful with her pale, cold face, and the unnatural fire 
in her eyes. I shudder at the thought of being 
under one roof, in one grave, with her. And yet, 
she has not taken leave of the world; it is not because 
she is weary of life that she is here; that nocturnal scene 
convinced me of that! She lives, she hopes, she struggles 
yet; she has only withdrawn here to collect new strength, 
and her victory may be my ruin! 

Inconsistent, wayward organ, the heart ! I sought and 
found oblivion, rest, and the sight of her sufficed to 
awaken in me all that should have died out ! 

I wished to leave the world with all its seemingly 
beautiful and lofty aspirations after the divine, for that 
highest and holiest gift of Providence, my heart, which 
only of all our being can be given us by God, which is 
woman’s one divine inheritance, had become a Calvary — 
a Golgotha. 

I must compose myself and open my diary, the record- 
ing of which made my solitude bearable. I will read of 
Eugenie, who was once so bright and happy; of poor 
Marie, who never was; who, according to her aunt’s 
opinion, must be unhappy like all Marys, because they 
carry with them through life the Biblical tradition of the 
Virgin. 

I will read my own experiences and those of my friends 
up to the time when I fled here from fate; here, where I 
thought there was no more fate, and whence it followed 
me, by sending after me one of its demons, with whose 
appearance the drama of my life will probably re-com- 
mence. 

That night’s apparition was no delusion; Stephanie 
lives. I will read and then make a decision which may 
only bring me fresh suffering. 


10 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


CHAPTER 11. 

We do not appreciate what a happy, golden age it is 
when we smile upon the world in our earliest youth ! 
The mother follows with delight her child’s gambols; 
she watches its first movements, she notes its develop- 
ment, she forms plans for the future, all so rosy, so 
blissful; she thinks she sees God’s protecting arm in the 
hundred small dangers which surround the unsuspecting 
little one; she sees herself young again in her darling, 
forgets gladly her own trials, proud in the consciousness 
of being able to guard him, until unnoticed by herself 
worldliness grows and expands in the child, who begins 
his struggle with a world, the issue of which is so uncer- 
tain. For it is worldliness in us which brings to us 
fortune or misfortune, which obtains for us a good or 
bad position in that chaos which composes the outer 
world. 

Probably scarcely one of my sisters entered life with 
so much anticipation of happiness as I; perhaps that was 
why I failed to obtain it. My good, kind mother was 
one of the most delicate and thoughtful of women, 
whose one care was to foster in her children’s minds all 
those tender emotions, which, according to her views, 
were the ornament of every woman. 

Herself very beautiful, educated with the greatest 
care, her intelligence was far above the average — yet was 
she withal so modest that she seemed unaware of the 
charms both of her mind and person, and -soon became 
one of the queens of society. It was my mother’s desire 
to train me as she ha^ been trained, and I remember 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 11 

well how the large circle of our acquaintance recognized 
in me the youthful image of my mother. 

My mother was happy because she knew how to be so, 
because she possessed a rich treasure in her heart and 
mind, which raised her above the trivialities of life. 

At least my father’s equal intellectually, she subordi- 
nated him, whose nature was proud, self-willed, often 
rude and indomitable, and impressed him by her angelic 
gentleness even in cases when her womanly pride was 
wounded. 

My father had held one of the highest positions in the 
German state. His excessive pride, his vanity, had 
forced him to resign this position and to retire pre- 
maturely into private life. 

Probably he felt convinced that the sovereign, who 
prized him so highly, would öffer an apology, and as 
that did not come to pass, he was exasperated still more. 

He left the capital, taking my mother with him, after 
disposing of his furniture, his pictures, and his stables 
with some ostentation, took a trip to France and Italy, 
and in the spring moved into one of the finest, most 
romantically situated castles in his possession. Here he 
first began his studies. He wrote a book on state gov- 
ernment, which, when completed, he locked in his desk, 
in order to have it handed over to his sovereign or his 
successor at his death. After this he gave himself up 
entirely to his ‘‘ noble passions^” which, from that time 
forth were to occupy all his attention. 

He lived in grand style. Once or twice a week the 
most brilliant gatherings in the whole neighborhood met 
with us. Hunting, fire-works, tournaments on a small 
scale, and other fetes were planned. My father was 
always conspicuous as the most prominent cavalier, and my 
mother was always the center of respect and admiration. 


12 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

From that time dates the life-sized portrait that was 
hung up in the knight’s hall of our castle. I was then 
about six years old; but to-day I can see myself standing 
with delight before that portrait, gazing at its beauty, 
although the painter, one of the first artists from a neigh- 
boring academy, had not succeeded in portraying all the 
fascination of that lovely face. 

Next me stood Eugenie, my playmate, who had been 
recently received into our family to assist me with 
French. Eugenie, after staring at the painting some time 
silently, seized me involuntarily by the arm and whispered 
in French: Paula, you will be as pretty as that some 
day !” We were then both children ! 

My small vanity never forgot that. I often afterward 
stopped before the mirror in the salon, when no one was 
watching me, in order to ascertain if there really was 
such a great resemblance to my lovely mother. Eugenie, 
scarcely four years older than I, had an idolatrous 
reverence for the latter. 

There was in that child a worship for personal beauty 
which entirely coincided with her shallow, flighty charac- 
ter. At the same time she entertained an equally great 
fear of my father. I often saw her tremble involuntarily 
when she heard the clinking of his spurs. She would 
gaze at his tall form, and if he addressed a few kind 
words to her, she would turn as pale as death. 

The cause of this was probably her low extraction, 
which easily awoke in. her admiration, surprise, or fear. 
She was the child of poor parents, was brought to an 
institute in Paris by relatives, and from there was sent 
to us. She was modest, retiring, and grateful for any 
attention or kindness shown her. 

As I heard later, my father had once loved my mother 
with a passion bordering on madness, which she returned 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 13 

with true affection, but within the limits of reason, in 
which way she controlled all of her feelings and connec- 
tion with the world. 

But a few years after their marriage my father’s passion 
had cooled. While all respected and honored his wife, 
with the classical beauty, with the form of a Juno, with 
her grace and her intellect, he treated her with patrician 
regard, with a kindness in which a certain reserve was 
visible. 

The attentions which she received my father seemed 
to regard as her due. He smiled to himself when he saw 
her surrounded by cavaliers, paid his attentions to other 
ladies, which attentions sat well upon him, and knew 
that his wife ruled all, without placing more value on the 
devotion of one than the other. 

Nevertheless, I often noticed that for days a certain cool- 
ness would exist between my parents. I readily ascribed 
it to a passing ill-temper on the part of my father, which 
sometimes possessed him, when he reproached Jiimself, 
or others did so, because he had withdrawn so early 
from a brilliant career, such as his had been. 

His irritation was augmented when he thought that 
some distinguished person staying in our neighborhood, 
and knowing that our castle was the center of that 
small world and one of the most charming points in the 
surrounding country, did not pay him. His Highness 
Count von M., the expected consideration or attention. 

Pride and unbounded self-conceit were my father’s 
most prominent traits of character. This pride he 
exhibited to others at every opportunity, but strange to 
say, he seldom paraded it before his wife. 

An evidence of the recklessness and impetuosity of his 
character he gave two years after my birth, for I was born 
three years after my parents’ marriage. 


14 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

One of his friends, Baron Reuth, at a supper follow- 
ing the races, thoughtlessly and probably somewhat 
heated by champagne, when the conversation turned 
upon Count M. and his devotion to his wife, had laughed, 
and, pooh-poohing the idea, said: 

“Bah! Count M. loves his horses as passionately as 
his handsome wife!” 

Several days after, when this came to my father’s ears, 
he rode into town alone, not followed by his groom, as 
usual. 

That evening he entered the club, rushed upon Baron 
Reuth in one of the salons, and in the presence of his 
friends struck him across the face with his whip. 

He then approached the Baron’s brother, who was 
seated at the whist table, told him that he despised him 
for being the brother of a villain to whom he had just 
given his deserts, and the next day in a duel sent a 
bullet through the unfortunate man’s heart. 

The Baron’s brother could not take his revenge. 
Half mad with rage at the insult, he had scarcely returned 
home from the club when he was seized with an apoplectic 
fit and died immediately. 

My father was imprisoned four months. 

When he was released, the aristocracy met him with 
increased interest, and all vied with one another in assur- 
ing my mother, who during his imprisonment had been 
in the vicinity, of their disgust at the insult offered to 
both him and her. 

My father forgot the blood he had shed in perform- 
ing his duties as a cavalier. 

Later I learned that the change in his manner toward 
my mother dated from that time. 

Perhaps the consciousness of having for her sake 
killed a friend who had not injured him, troubled him 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 15 

more than he allowed others to know of, for the brother 
of that man had been an intimate friend of his; but the 
conviction that he would be obliged to break off the 
friendship had driven him to that insult. 

I have never been able to comprehend that fixed, 
inexorable code of honor which society dictates to 
man; which forces him to break all other laws, 
even the holiest; which, by a single thoughtless word 
may cause bloodshed, and bring inexpressible misery to 
others. 

My father’s deed, approved of by the world for reasons 
to me inexplicable, I could never account for, unless his 
passionate disposition was the cause of it. 

When I began to take an interest in the world all 
traces of that bloody deed had entirely disappeared; at 
least, I can not remember its being mentioned once. 

Our castle was, as 1 have said, the rendezvous of the 
“ Upper Ten,” amongst which our family stood foremost, 
my parents’ wealth having been doubled by the early 
death of my mother’s brother, who died at the Hy5res 
Islands, where he, a consumptive, had gone several 
years before. My father used the increase in his fortune 
to purchase a large, adjoining estate, upon which to put 
up a palatial mansion, which was to be my brother’s, but 
which was never finished. 

Between the latter and me there had been lacking from 
our youth all sisterly and brotherly affection. 

Hermann, several years my senior, was very unman- 
ageable, so much so that his tutor could not govern him; 
he was very young when he began to tease, to annoy 
others, to vent his petty spitefulness on those whom he 
could offend without fear of punishment, and indeed he 
never was punished, for no one had the courage to com- 
plain of him to our father. 


16 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

Eugenie trembled when she heard him near her. I 
was always flying from him, and if I ventured to com- 
plain of him to my mother, it availed us nothing. 

My father considered it his privilege to train the boy 
himself. My mother seldom carried her point when she 
required Hermann’s correction, and the result was that 
the latter soon lost his respect for her, because he saw 
that his father sided with him. The consequences were 
that Hermann directed his malice against his mother 
whenever he could, that he looked upon her as an 
enemy, and as he did not dare to practice his wanton- 
ness upon his mother herself, he made butts of Eugenie 
and me. 

It is almost impossible to conceive how much harm a 
destructive, malicious boy can do even when quite young, 
if he has no cause to fear correction. 

All the servants, the inhabitants of the village even, 
feared the rude boy, whose whole mind was filled with 
the thought of doing some mischief, while his father 
looked down smilingly from the height of his imperious 
self-consciousness upon this petty worthlessness. He 
magnanimously tried to console the injured parties, but 
it never occurred to him to punish his boy. 

He loved, he often said with satisfaction, those wild, 
unruly natures; saw in them the original qualities for 
forming a character, and only dreaded that his son might 
develop into one of those commonplace, weak creatures, 
who never progress an inch beyond their everyday 
existence, and creep on servilely in accordance with the 
laws of society and the state. 

He, who had worked under the laws of the state, now 
scoffed at them; this must have surely been one of the 
results of that displeasure which caused him to withdraw 
from public life. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 17 

The management of his large estates often occasioned 
him much trouble and vexation, and these troubles 
increased in proportion to the growth of his wealth. But 
in all this he found that which compensated him for the 
past. 

The secret charm in the possession of property was so 
manifest, that later I could easily see through it. All 
the cares caused by these possessions, the small receipts^ 
the battles with the elements, bad harvests, and other 
things, are all forgotten in the autocratic consciousness 
of being ruler over so and so many tracts of land, and 
so and so many souls, and this masterful feeling leads 
one so easily to infringe on those above and below, to 
the right and to the left of the boundaries which are 
worked by one’s own plow. 

It was very evident that my father hoped to make of 
his son a man who, placed by him as lord over a number 
of people, and strong in aristocratic insolence, should 
defy the crown, which had wounded him, or rather his 
unbounded pride. Therefore, he educated his son 
according to feudal principles. His better judgment as a 
clever statesman did not lead him to this choice; it was 
his pique. If he had been an unrewarded, unappreciated 
servant of the crown, his son by observing a defiant 
independence should revenge him. 

This thought had possessed him since that day when 
the monarch, with whom he had formerly been closeted 
daily in his cabinet, had visited in our vicinity, and, 
without taking the slightest notice of him, had accepted 
a neighbor’s invitation to a chase, which would neces- 
sarily touch upon our boundaries. 

I remember yet, how upon that day early in the morn- 
ing, as Eugenie and I were playing in the park, my 
father, clad in his finest hunting-suit, rode out, accom- 
2 


18 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


panied by some intimate friends, his piquers, and a 
dozen servants ; how the horns sounded merrier and 
louder than usual, and how the voices of the guests and 
the clinking of glasses penetrated to our room far into 
the night. 

From that time forth — I understood all later — we lived 
higher than ever — I ascribed all these festivities, that is 
the numerous tournaments and tilts, the jousts of fisher- 
men on our large lake, the magnificent' hunting-parties, 
to the inheritance ; but the true motive which suggested 
to my father this princely household was that of making 
an impression upon the court with his grandeur. 

The king should hear of it, the papers should speak 
of it, and with the same aim, he prepared a programme 
for a visit to the residence late in the summer, when the 
Diet would be in session; he scrupulously carried out his 
intentions, we children remaining at home in charge of 
our masters. 

Far from me is the thought of speaking with want of 
respect about my father. He wished to be judged by 
his actions; he was proud of being just so and not other- 
wise, and only one thing did he seek to hide, namely, the 
sense of having been insulted or slighted, which was 
nevertheless the mainspring of many of his deeds. 

His was an imperious, arrogant nature, and the kind- 
ness which he evinced to us children was shown in 
moments when he was contented with himself and his 
surroundings; and even then, Hermann was the object of 
this favor, while he seemed to assign me to my mother. 

His affection for the boy went so far that he connived 
at all his mad tricks even if they bore the stamp of 
villainy. 

Only occasionally he would knit his brows, but would 
say nothing. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 19 

Had Hermann put a poor villager’s eye out with a cata- 
pult, his father would have provided for the unfortunate 
girl’s future. When he came upon poor Eugenie from 
behind by the fountain in the garden, and threw her 
into the basin, so that the poor creature was drenched, 
my father only called it a “ a roguish prank.” 

When, one day, he bound my favorite doll to the tail 
of a dragon, which, with the help of a servant, he had 
mounted, my father was delighted with his idea; and if 
he set one of our dogs upon a couple of urchins, who ran 
home with torn clothes, my father sent them money. 

In spite of his imperious ways, my father was beloved 
by his inferiors. In his person and actions he was grand 
seigneur, and everyone thought he could not be other- 
wise; he must be so. All that he did was stylish and 
knightly, and involuntarily the masses were devoted to 
him, while the better classes, even, often against their 
wills, perceived the superiority, I might say the 
majesty, of his appearance. 

It did not matter to him, the Count von M., that the 
times of chivalry were over. What in others might have 
been condemned as “ Don Quixotic,” suited him, and 
the aristocrats of the province saw in him their dauntless 
standard-bearer, who possessed the spirit, the courage, and 
the power to brave the leveling influences of the time. 

My mother, a member of one of the oldest and 
noblest families of a neighboring province, joined with 
her fine, womanly tact, silently, and probably not unwil- 
lingly, those who regarded her husband as their repre- 
sentative; and if it was not very enjoyable, still she 
found an opportunity in all this social disturbance to 
control the same by her beauty and intellect. 

It is so easy for a beautiful woman to gain power if 
she possesses the tact to banish exerything from her 


20 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

circle which might interfere with her. Kind and gentle 
by nature, my mother understood how to make up for 
my father’s rudeness, if he grew passionate and violent. 
If my father was not thoughtful of poverty, and did not 
sympathize with misery, perhaps it was because he left 
that domain to his wife. It was too trifling a matter for 
him to trouble about. He had only to do with the dis- 
pensation of money on a large scale, and laughed when 
he saw how the needy ones quarreled amongst them- 
selves for the crumbs which fell from his table. 

My education and its superintendence were of course 
intrusted to my governess and my mother, -whilst he 
devoted himself entirely to that of my brother, and zeal- 
ously saw to it that athletics and sport in all their branches 
were early enjoyed by the boy. 

And to this mother do I owe everything, including 
my misery, though she trained me as she had been, and 
carefully guarded me from corrupt and shallow associa- 
tions. 


CHAPTER III. 

I had just completed my seventeenth year, when my 
father’s life was terminated by a fall on the hunting- 
field. He was mourned by society, which had seen in 
him a sort of center; he was probably also criticised, as 
those usually are at their deaths, who, during their life- 
time, cared for the enjoyments of others; when society 
was left to ennui and found itself without amusement, 
it perceived his faults, which in the midst of the whirl- 
pool of gayety and dissipation it had not been aware of. 

I was old enough to judge of the true worth of those 
people when their leader was suddenly taken away — their 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 21 

leader, witli whom they had so long been associated, in 
whose presence they had so bravely borne their shields, 
in whose fetes and tournaments they had participated. 

Scarcely one-half of them troubled themselves to 
show their last respects to the deceased, and that half 
consisted of those to whom my father had shown the 
least preference. 

A dead man is very silent; he is so much the more 
silent if, in his lifetime, he created a stir. 

For some days he furnishes material for general con- 
versation, in which ingratitude forms the greater part; 
he is only missed by those in whose selfish hearts he has 
left a void, and only there until they succeed in finding 
something else to fill it. 

It was so miserable in our castle after the funeral. 
Everything about us reminded us of our father's love of 
life, of his hospitality, of the liberality with which he 
scattered his wealth abroad. 

The magnificent, luxurious rooms, the finely laid out 
parks, the flotilla on the lake used for regattas, the 
archery-ground, the stables with their marble mangers 
and valuable horses, the piquers and huntsmen, the pack 
of hounds, the numerous lackeys with gold braid on 
their liveries, the carriages, all mourned the departed. 

But all seemed selfishly to ask, “ What will become 
of us?” 

When we returned from the cemetery, we were so 
tired and weary of life that we felt as if we would gladly 
lie with our loved one. 

The court-yard was unnaturally quiet; the orange 
buds were opening their chalices. 

The servants crept about just as unnaturally and 
silently in their mourning. Only my father’s favorite 
horse stood at the door of the stable and neighed loudly 


22 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

for his master, whom he had just escorted to his last 
resting-place. 

When we reached our room, throwing back her black 
veil, still weeping and pale, my mother pressed me to her 
and hung over me a long time. 

She held my hand long and fast; hers was cold and 
lifeless; occasionally a convulsive sob shook her frame. 

In that sad, painful moment it seemed to both of us as 
if we were poor, deserted orphans, as if we had lost our 
protector, our support. 

It sent a thrill of pain through me, as, with my arm 
about my weeping mother, my gaze chanced to rest upon 
the long suite of state-rooms, the doors leading to which 
were ajar. 

This splendor seemed to me like sacrilege, like a 
mockery of our abandonment, of our helplessness. It 
was as if all this must suddenly vanish, for he was gone 
who had been master of it all, whose judgment and taste 
had provided this luxury, and without whom everything 
seemed to me as nothing. 

Those fine oil-paintings my father had chosen, with 
his love and taste for the fine arts; those onyx vases, 
those urns, those mosaic floors and tables, those statues 
and busts, all those quaint and tasteful emblems he had 
collected with a great amount of care and expense at 
Paris, Rome, and Madrid. But they now gave us no 
pleasure, for his tall, imposing form no more would rule 
over these rooms, because those inanimate objects, 
which had been placed there by him, seemed only 
designed for his delight. 

Her husband’s death had affected my mother deeply. 

It had become necessary for her thoughtful, tender 
nature to cling to that majestic form, especially when 
she retired to the small world which contained her affec- 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 23 

tions and ideas, during the pauses which my father’s hos- 
pitality allowed, and in those pauses she felt doubly 
happy. 

Though as hostess she had had very little care, for my 
father had his servants so trained that each knew the 
duties he had to perform, and things always passed off 
smoothly, for his wealth was sufficient for all such 
arrangements, and his entertainments seemed to be 
guided by an invisible hand, so that he himself had not 
the least responsibilty. 

That gay life, the always-stirring mood of the guests, 
the walking and driving in the park, on the lake, in the 
woods, lasted from spring until late in the autumn, and 
scarcely had the last guests departed, when our trunks 
were packed, and we Ibft for a visit to one of the Euro- 
pean capitals. 

My mother, who at the time of my father’s death was 
still a lovely woman, was always the life of the party, the 
fairy who held sway. 

Now suddenly all had grown dark and dreary. 

Her grief for her loved one, the gloom about her, 
where every object spoke of him, moved her deepl}^, for 
she was now quite alone; of her nearest relatives only a 
delicate aunt remained, and she had never liked my 
father. And if her thoughts, seeking protection and 
comfort, turned to her son, she was compelled to make 
an acknowledgment which wounded her maternal heart. 

What could not be prevented, had slowly come to pass. 
My father’s indulgence had allowed Hermann his own 
way until his disposition, instead of being kind and 
thoughtful as it might have been, developed into a cold 
insensibility. 

Every sign of feeling that he saw only awakened his 
scorn; he even mocked at common sympathy, and often 


24 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

brutally trampled upon it. He was, or rather believed 
himself to be, a cavalier, though he misused his rights 
most unscrupulously. 

What his father had been he was, with the exception 
of feeling and intellect. 

Whereas his father had always, in the face of his 
exalted position, conscientiously fulfilled his duties as a 
cavalier with tact and magnanimity, Hermann only con- 
sidered his own rights; and these to him had no limits, 
no laws except those which were written in his breviary, 
at the head of which stood: Contempt for all who were 
not his equals by birth, and woe to his equal, if he did 
the least thing which could be construed into diminution 
of the admiration due to the handsome, wealthy, and 
illustrious Count von M.! 

It is true, as a stripling of twenty he was the ideal of a 
cavalier. To-day I can see the proud, contented gaze of 
my father when upon his death-bed, rest upon Hermann, 
whose hand he held in his, while we stood weeping 
beside him. 

That last look must have satisfied him, for he had no 
room in his dying heart for his wife and daughter. He 
saw his youth renewed in his boy. He thought us safe 
in Hermann’s care; Hermann, who he fondly believed 
had inherited his high-mindedness, his generosity, his 
knightly virtues. 

Indeed, whoever saw Hermann was fascinated by his 
noble appearance at the first glance, and I could easily 
understand the ladies’ admiration for him, an admiration 
which I myself could not withhold when I saw him, even 
though the next moment a certain fear crept over me. 

At the same age my father must have been like Her- 
mann, for the latter was a speaking likeness of the former. 
Tall and slender, with broad, ‘strong shoulders, his whole 


THE GOLGOTHA OF TTIE HEART. 25 

figure well-proportioned, carriage erect yet graceful, 
with an aristocratic countenance, every feature of which 
bespoke noble birth, a high forehead, clear, large, master- 
ful eyes, dark brown curly hair, a slightly curved nose, a 
rounded chin, an incipient moustache upon his upper 
lip, a pale complexion, small hands and feet notwith- 
standing his height — such was Hermann in his twentieth 
year; an ideal of manly beauty which compelled admira- 
tion; Providence seemed to have showered upon him all 
her gifts. 

One circumstance, however, proved what his nature 
was; it was that my mother trembled in his presence, and 
one of those paroxysms seized her when, an hour after 
the funeral, we were sitting weeping and disconsolate in 
our room. 

The hand which my mother held before her eyes 
shook, as she was rudely awakened from her grief by the 
clinking of spurs in the adjoining room. 

She passed both hands over her brow involuntarily, 
dried her tears, and looked up confusedly, almost 
unconsciously. 

The tramping of horses in the court below broke the 
stillness. 

Hermann entered. He had already laid aside his 
mourning, and only wore a band of crape upon his arm, 
which paltry token was all that he deigned to devote to 
the immeasurable love which his father had lavished 
upon him. 

Nothing in his face betrayed a sign of sorrow, nor 
even respect for the dead. What put him out of temper 
was the grief of those about him, the dullness which 
annoyed him, the oppressive solemnity of the occasion 
which caused him intolerable ennui. 

The appearance of him, who from this time forth 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

should be our natural protector, who should offer us con- 
solation and courage, only terrified us. 

Standing by my mother’s side, I unwittingly drew 
closer to her, and she laid her hand upon my arm. 

Hermann was certainly paler than usual; the expres- 
sion of his eyes was less overbearing but not less self- 
conscious. His carriage was as proud as ever, his step 
as firm, and as an example of his disposition, he had not 
even the feeling to spare us the clinking of his spurs. 

With his whip, gray gloves,and riding boots he entered 
mother’s small salon, which communicated with her sit- 
ting-room, and in which she was accustomed to sit with 
Eugenie and me. 

“ I fear I have disturbed you, mother,” said he, 
remaining standing several steps from her, visibly disap- 
pointed in his expectation of her turning her attention 
to him. 

A pause ensued, during which my mother kept her 
face buried in her handkerchief, for she was trying to 
gain the necessary composure with which to answer her 
son. 

Meanwhile I glanced at my brother questioningly. It 
was impossible for me to conceal from him my astonish- 
ment, my indignation at his heartlessness, although I had 
expected nothing else from him. 

Hermann saw the look and ignored it. I had always 
seemed to him a person of very little consequence, who, 
now that he was master, had sunk into a nonentity. 
Besides, it had been his principle for years to snub me if 
I, as his sister, attempted to make suggestions to him 
which our mother lacked the courage to make. 

I did not lay much stress upon it then, for such is often 
the case between brothers and sisters when they are 
under the care and authority of their parents; a girl’s 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 27 

common sense tries to assert itself, and probably in many 
instances is at fault; but to-day I felt as if it were the 
duty of us both equally to protect and love our mother. 

In the meantime my mother raised her head; eyes 
heavy with tears looked up at her son. 

How dearly would she have liked in her misery to press 
him to her breast, to seek comfort from him, but Her- 
mann’s countenance did not betray the least emotion; 
only peevishness, impatience, and disgust were stamped 
upon his cold features, and sorrowfully, her mater- 
nal heart deeply wounded, she again rested her head in 
her hands. 

“You do not disturb me,” she answered slowly, almost 
inaudibly. 

“The notary desires my presence urgently; I shall 
ride into town with George to night, and shall probably 
remain there several days.” 

My mother did not answer him. She sat there motion- 
less, her head in her hands. 

Hermann bit his lip; he waited a moment. Then 
suddenly he approached her, took her hand from her 
forehead, pressed a light kiss upon it, and avoiding my 
reproachful glance, he passed out. 

A sigh escaped my mother’s breast, as Hermann’s 
steps resounded louder than before in the rooms. 

Had his appearance been for a purpose ? I was almost 
certain of it. He probably wished from the very first to 
call my mother’s attention to his future position. 

How easily might he have done so without wounding 
his mother at the moment when she was in the deepest 
grief ! . 

As a result of his training, my brother naturally con- 
sidered her his adversary. As a boy, even though he 
knew that when she was compelled to complain of him 


28 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

to his father she tried to excuse his insolence as far as 
lay in her power, he saw in the course she pursued a 
hostile purpose, and his rudeness by degrees took the 
form of defiance of, or opposition to, everything that she 
wished, and we had feared and expected that as soon as 
he became independent, it would turn to utter disregard. 

Hermann’s designs had been fully accomplished; from 
that moment our poor mother knew what she had to 
expect. His masterful, self-conscious air rather than his 
behavior explained that. 


CHAPTER IV. 

The deceased’s will, which, in case he should die 
before Hermann had attained the age of twenty, declared 
the latter from the time of his death of age, and desired 
that he should take the management of the estates, was 
known to my mother. 

We suspected that Hermann would make use of this 
disposition almost before the coffin was in the ground, 
and so it was. 

It was with that object that he rode into town. He 
returned home after everything was settled, and took 
possession of his affairs with an energy which surprised 
us, and made us fear that he had more energy than 
capability. 

Weeks, months passed. 

Hermann soon grew tired of the castle, as during the 
prescribed time of mourning he could not enjoy himself 
in his way. He left us long periods at a time, and 
invariably returned more disagreeable and reckless. He 
came and went, taking the coldest farewells and greeting 
us just as coldly. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 29 

The seriousness which had marked my mother's man- 
ner since her trouble, her calm bearing toward everyone, 
her resignation, the simplicity of her dress and habits 
after the gay life she had led, were not to Hermann’s 
taste. All this caused him annoyance, to which he did 
not dare give vent in words, but which was visible in his 
manner. 

He seemed to feel it an insult that his mother did not 
make use of all the luxury with which, following his 
father’s example, he surrounded the household; that she 
drew back timidly as soon as she encountered it, which 
did not mean that all pleasure in life had vanished with 
her husband, that she wished to devote herself only 
to her daughter’s education, but rather that she took 
no interest in worldly things. 

Hermann considered this affectation. Grief for his 
father, he once declared, must, like everything else, have 
an end some time; the castle, which once had been the 
Mecca of the whole provincial nobility, and was still 
the pride of the province, should not be changed into a 
hermitage ; neither could he understand such senti- 
mentality as his mother exhibited, his mother who had 
once been so happy as the leader of society. 

The first remark was a reproach, the last an insult, 
which it was evidently intended to be. Hermann received 
no answer. 

The relations between Hermann and me naturally 
grew more strained. We had never had any love for one 
another, and now he tried to take the upper hand, of 
which I took no notice, and which it never occurred to 
me to oppose. 

His abruptness to our mother took sometimes a tone, 
to me bordering on rudeness, when he saw that his 
superiority was not acknowledged. 


30 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

Eugenie, with whom I had been brought up, had 
become to me a dear friend, and was also looked upon 
as such by my mother. 

She was the prototype of a French woman, not hand- 
some, not even pretty, on account of the irregularity of 
her features, but piquant, interesting, and graceful. 

She was not as tall as I, and had the greatest admira- 
tion for me on account of my height, just as she had 
always had when we were children, and she very often 
led me to my mother’s portrait, in order to show me that 
she had not been mistaken in her prophecy. 

If Eugenie’s form had not grown, her mind had devel- 
oped. She possessed that French esprit, which easily 
charms, but she possessed more than that, for she had 
taken advantage of our joint tuition, and had learnt a 
great deal. 

She was refined and pleasing in her conversation, full 
of originality, in which childish naivete was coupled with 
true intelligence, which she introduced into her conver- 
sation with charming modesty, while she had a droll way 
of speaking which would amuse a whole company. 

Toward my mother and me she was very loyal, and 
her loyalty was free from all toadyism; to me, especially, 
it took the form of an attentiveness, which sought to divine 
my slightest wish, and she was happy if she succeeded. 

Only when Hermann was present, she seemed embar- 
rassed and nervous. I often noticed how she secretly 
trembled if he came in, how she tried to avoid him, and 
invented pretexts in order to do so. 

Hermann never bestowed a kind word upon her, since 
it did not befit his present position to make a butt of her 
as he had done when a boy. 

Something had befallen the poor girl, which depressed 
her. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 81 

She loved to fly to the woods when she mused. She 
would at such times unfasten one of the small boats on 
the lake, and row herself across to the opposite side. 
There she would sit for hours in a favorite spot with a 
book in her hand, and when she came back, would imi- 
tate the voices of the birds, which she had heard there. 

One afternoon we waited in vain for her return. The 
boat was still on the shore, a sign that Eugenie was yet 
in the woods. 

When the sun set, we sent out servants to seek her; 
but while they were gone, Eugenie returned, accom- 
panied by one of our foresters, a man seventy years of age, 
who, according to my father’s will had been pensioned. 

Eugenie, notwithstanding the exercise she had had, 
was as pale as death. She shyly avoided our questions, 
escaped to her room, locked herself in, did not appear 
at supper, and gave indisposition as her excuse. 

In the meantime, the forester told us his story. The 
old man had found the ‘^French girl," as she was called 
in the village, in the woods bound to a tree with her 
hands behind her; the young lady, he said, had at first 
earnestly begged and then strictly forbidden him to tell 
anything, but he dared not remain silent, for it would be 
necessary to watch the woods carefully. The young 
lady would not confess who had committed the deed, 
but there was no doubt that it must have been some 
prowling vagabonds and so forth. 

We had to knock several times before we could prevail 
upon Eugenie to open her door. 

We found her undressed, with both of her wrists bound 
with wet cloths; she was grave and reserved, but calm. 
My mother examined her wrists in spite of her resist- 
ance. They bore swollen, bloody streaks — the forester’s 
story was confirmed. 


32 THE Gül-HOTHA OF THE HEART, 

No questioning, no command of my mother could 
induce Eugenie at first to speak. She finally declared 
that while sitting in the woods deep in her book, she 
was attacked from behind and bound. It was evident 
that someone wished to rob her, but had been disturbed 
by the forester. 

That Eugenie w^as not speaking the truth was proved 
by her wrists. Her arms must have been bound at 
least an hour, if not longer. Her watch and chain lay 
upon her toilet table. Had she been attacked by rob- 
bers, they would have had plenty of time to possess 
themselves of those things. 

At Eugenie’s request, we left her; she complained 
that she felt very nervous and tired. 

My mother was perplexed; she was silent the 
remainder of the evening. We sat on the veranda; she, 
supporting her chin in her hand, and looking down 
upon the village at our feet, in which village one light 
after another began to glimmer. 

When we heard loud, quick steps, my mother started 
violently. 

It was Hermann, who, without noticing us, entered 
the door and went to his room. 

A suspicion crossed my mind that probably accorded 
with my mother’s thoughts. 

Early the following morning Eugenie asked to see the 
latter. 

She was still pale; her manner was confused and dis- 
turbed; her voice trembled. Eugenie came to ask for 
her dismissal. She wished to return to France. 

As my mother stared at her in astonishment, took her 
hand, and implored her to tell her what had happened 
to her, she shook her head; tears then started from 
her eyes; she threw herself before my mother on het 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 33 

knees, thanked her between her sobs for the kindness 
she had shown her, and confessed that she, herself, could 
not make up her mind to go; still she had to leave us. 

When my mother found out that she could not dis- 
suade the unhappy girl, she sent for me. 

Eugenie fell upon her knees before me; she clung to 
me; her sobs were loud and heart-rending; begged my 
forgiveness if what she was doing seemed like ingrati- 
tude; assured us that all the kindness which we had 
shown her would never be forgotten by her; that to her 
dying day she would be grateful to us. 

When we had succeeded in quieting her, she grew 
reserved again. Nothiqg could induce her to tell us the 
truth, which we were certain she had not spoken, and 
both of us trembled when we thought of what it might 
be. 

We were successful in changing Eugenie's decision. 
She gave in to my mother’s remonstrances. 

That evening I surprised Eugenie in an attempt at 
flight. I had no suspicion of how hard it had been to 
bring herself to do it, and what caused her to do so. 
Had I only allowed her to do as she pleased, for her 
own sake! I made her promise never to attempt such a 
thing again. I even managed to call up a smile; but it 
was forced, to give me pleasure. 

Two days afterward, my brother spoke of the occur- 
rence in my mother’s presence. He had only heard of 
it from his valet, he said, and something else must be 
back of it. That Eugenie was an amorous hussy, like all 
French women; her walks in the woods were probably 
rendezvous; the forester had very likely surprised her at 
something of the kind, and she had induced him to 
relate this fable by giving him a pour-boire. He would see 
to it at once; his sister’s close intimacy with such a 
3 


34 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

creature had always been a thorn in his eye, and he would 
know how to do away with it at the right time. The 
Countess von M. must not associate with this “woman 
and if his sister could not break with that person alto- 
gether, she should at least be made to know her place. 
Our father had brought up the girl as a maid, and as 
such he wished her to be treated in the castle from that 
time forth. Moreover, he had long had an idea of mar- 
rying her to the young village schoolmaster, but after 
the scandal which had occurred, he would only be able 
to induce him to take her as his wife by promising 
him a great deal. 

My mother answered him just as decidedly. This 
was a matter which only concerned her, in which she 
only had to decide, and he would be kind enough to 
refrain from all interference. 

Hermann, who was driven to extremities by his 
mother’s opposition, sent to the village immediately for 
the schoolmaster. 

He was- a young simpleton, fresh from the seminary, 
who had recently stepped into his dead father’s place. 
He came into the room like a malefactor; my mother sat 
at the window, silent and composed, whilst Hermann, 
with his hands behind him, paced to and fro defiantly. 

In my mother’s presence, Hermann ordered the lack- 
eys to fetch the “ French woman ” immediately, and with 
a flushed face continued his walk. 

Perfectly calm and self-possessed, my mother sat there, 
determined to use her authority at the last moment. 

The servant returned. 

Mademoiselle Eugenie refused to appear before his 
excellency, he reported, 

Hermann clinched his fist; the veins on his forehead 
swelled; his eyes rolled in their sockets. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 35 

I command her to come at once, or she shall be 
dragged here!” he cried out. 

The servant went. 

My mother tried to rise, but sank back again upon 
the couch. I could see from the adjoining room how 
pale she turned; but, knowing my brother’s vehemence, 
I dared not go to her assistance. Nevertheless, I 
determined to interfere if worst came to worst. 

Several painful minutes“ passed. Hermann’s heavy 
steps resounded on the floor. 

“ Mademoiselle Eugenie,” I now heard the servant 
announce, refuses to come. She left her room, flew 
through the corridor, down the steps, and across the 
court, before I could prevent her.” 

Hermann stared at the servant. 

I drew a deep breath, but my heart was beating wildly 
for my poor friend’s sake, for I knew of what my brother 
was capable. 

“ Follow her! she has no doubt made for the woods!” 
cried Hermann, in a voice like thunder. “ Let the dogs 
loose on the hussy!” 

“Hermann!” now cried my m.other, springing up and 
approaching him commandingly. 

“Go! you know my orders!” cried Hermann to the 
irresolute servant. “ Unloose the dogs; they will be set 
on you if you do not mind!” 

The servants had just gone out, when I ventured to 
appear at the door. 

My brother was beside himself with anger, while the 
young schoolmaster, with a stupid, puzzled expression, 
stood at the door and turned his hat over and over in 
his hands. 

I was indignant, and determined to protect Eugenie. 
My brother should not dare to hurt a hair of her 


36 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

head. A scornful glance from Hermann increased my 
anger. 

Just then I met my mother’s imploring gaze. I saw 
that she now, as always at a critical juncture, had not lost 
her tact and self-control. 

It was evidently her object to let them bring Eugenie 
into the salon, even if she were brought by force, and 
then stretch her protecting arm over her. 

I felt that it would be wiser to leave everything to 
my mother, although I was very anxious about my friend. 
My heart was in my mouth; I was filled with a deep 
aversion to my brother, for if I had until now enter- 
tained a doubt of Hermann himself having a hand in 
that shameful ill-treatment of the poor, defenseless girl, 
it was .confirmed by his rage against her, whom, up to 
this time, he had simply treated as an inferior, without 
really harming her. 

Loathing, the deepest contempt, nothing else could I 
feel that day for my own brother, whose brutality went 
so far as to set the dogs upon Eugenie! 

Suddenly Hermann halted. He approached the win- 
dow in order to see into the court-yard, and convince 
himself that his orders were being obeyed. I took 
advantage of this to take my place behind my mother’s 
couch. I really took some courage when I saw her so 
composed. Caressingly I laid my hand upon her shoulder. 

“ Leave the room, Paula!” she said, loud enough for 
Hermann to hear. “ What will be decided upon between 
my son and me to-day, I do not wish you to hear!” 

In answer to that, Hermann beat a tattoo impatiently 
and vigorously on the window. He did not vouchsafe 
my mother’s remark a word. 

This command was welcomed by me, for I was uneasy 
lest some injury might be offered to my friend, although 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 37 

I felt almost assured that Hermann’s orders would not 
be carried out by the servants, who were fond of Eu- 
genie. 

I flew through the long corridor and hall. 

Scarcely had I reached the perron^ when a voice from 
the court called up to me: 

“ Mademoiselle Eugenie has thrown herself into the 
lake!” 

All grew dark before my eyes; my brain whirled; I 
clung to the balustrade. 

‘‘Help! help!” cried I, almost breathless with anxi- 
ety. 

“The fishermen are already there! there will be no 
danger! the lake is not so deep in that place!” I heard 
another voice say, while all was confusion in the court. 

This encouragement aroused my hope, but my limbs 
trembled so that I could not move from the spot upon 
which I stood. 

Then all at once the spell was broken. I rushed 
down the steps, through the court and park, to the lake. 

Upon the spot where my father’s small flotilla lay, 
which had often borne us over the blue waters, a crowd 
had assembled, which gave way when I came up. I saw 
the fisherman bearing in his arms a blue, drenched bur- 
den, which he laid on the little landing place, while the 
curious pressed about him. 

I do not know how I broke through that living wall. I 
knelt beside Eugenie, who showed no signs of life. I bent 
over her, I shook her, I called to the servants to ride to 
town quickly and get a doctor; but was it fright which 
paralyzed them, or was it the order which Hermann had 
issued? No one stirred! 

“It is not necessary. Countess!” said the fisherman, 
taking his hand from Eugenie’s heart. “Take courage; 


38 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

her heart still beats! She has hardly had time to 
recover yet! I was busy in one of the boats, and jumped 
in after her at once, before she had time to reach the 
deep part! Only send away all these people, so that we 
can open her dress; she must have air! This is the 
third time that I have rescued someone from a watery 
grave!” 

In the meantime, changing his mind suddenly, he lifted 
the light burden upon his shoulders. 

“Come to my hut. Countess!” cried he; “we shall 
soon revive her! But send the rest away!” 

I followed him breathlessly. The thought of losing 
Eugenie, my only friend, was to me unbearable. 

Never had I considered her pretty, or even passably 
so; but as she lay upon the fisherman’s bed, her face 
wore such a strange expression that I had to admire her 
involuntarily. About her closed eyes lay something 
inexpressibly sad; her pallid lips, half open, seemed to 
wish to tell of her unhappiness, and her wet, flowing 
hair revealed two delicately-veined brows. 

It was strange that all of her features should be pretty, 
and yet that the touUensemble should lack the harmony of 
beauty. 

However, no time was to be lost. 

I could not bear to have the fisherman lay his rough 
hand upon her. I hastily opened her bodice, and, fol- 
lowing the directions of the experienced old man stand- 
ing behind me, chafed her breast, her brow, and hands, 
and with a cry of delight welcomed the first signs of 
life. 

My friend’s eyes opened; she raised her hand, stared 
first at me and then at the fisherman, pressed both hands 
to her forehead, in order to collect her thoughts, and 
then hastily raised herself. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 39 

Where am I?” she asked, looking at her wet clothing. 
“What has happened to me?” 

With fear depicted on her countenance, she glanced 
about her. 

“ Eugenie, do you not know me? It is I, Paula!” cried 
I, grasping her cold hand. 

“Yes, yes,” she exclaimed confusedly, blankly. 

“I shall have to scold you; you have occasioned me 
unutterable anxiety, you naughty girl!” 

“ I?” 

Eugenie now came to herself. 

“Yes, yes; I remember now!” 

The recollection of her deed and the cause of it 
returned to her. 

“I could not do otherwise!” cried she, as she let her 
hand fall upon her wet dress. “ I wish I were lying at 
the bottom of the sea!” 

“Why, Eugenie, that is wicked! You have sinned 
against God, against yourself, and against us!” 

Eugenie, who was very pious, gazed before her sadly 
and slowly shook her head. 

“ Oh, c'4tait plus fort que moit' cried she, return- 
ing to her mother tongue, as she always did when 
affected. 

I comforted, I encouraged her with words of consola- 
tion and assurance; I told her of the resoluteness with 
which my mother would protect her; I assured her that 
both my mother and I would guard her from all injustice, 
and then ordered one of the servants waiting outside to 
call my maid quickly, and tell her to bring other clothes 
for Eugenie. 

Eugenie was suddenly seized with a chill which shook 
her whole frame. 

“You are ill, Eugenie!” cried I, as I sent the fisher- 


40 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


man away, and helped her change her garments. I then 
wrapped her in everything that I could possibly find in 
the hut, led her from the wet bed to an old, rickety 
easy-chair covered with much-worn leather, and then 
went out to look after the servants. 

The curious people outside had been satisfied. I sent 
my mother a message to the effect that Eugenie seemed 
to be ill, she should send immediately for the doctor, and 
begged her to take an interest in the miserable girl. 

My mother came. Gravely but kindly, with a cordiality 
which did the unfortunate creature good, she approached 
her. Eugenie seized her hand and raised it to her lips, 
yet not without a shy, questioning glance at her. 

“ Compose yourself, Eugenie!” said my mother. “You 
are under my protection! From this time many changes 
will be made in our household! Be without fear and 
trust to me!” 

I now understood the meaning of her words — 
“ what will be decided upon between my son and me to- 
day.” 

Although my mother’s disposition would not allow of 
an open rupture between herself and her son, still I 
knew that she had long considered her position humiliat- 
ing, that her maternal heart was battling with a decision, 
which must finally be made. 

And this decision Hermann had learned in the castle 
when my mother heard the news of Eugenie’s restora- 
tion to life. Then so much the more was her indigna- 
tion increased at Hermann’s brutal treatment. 

An unkind remark of my brother’s, upon the receipt of 
this news, forced her to tell him what she had decided 
upon. She wished to leave the castle. 

Hermann received this information with indifference. 
Probably it was agreeable to him, for it freed him from a 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 41 

domestic life which was burdensome to him, which 
subjected his actions to continual notice and criticism. 

“I can not dictate to you,” had been his only reply; 
indeed, only one thing about the matter did not seem to 
please him, and that was that by our departure the 
despised Frenchwoman would be out of the range of his 
revenge, his persecution. 

His delight at my mother’s decision he could not con- 
ceal from his steward. 

“Thank God,” said he to him that evening, “ I shall 
be freed from those women! But that hussy shall 
remember me!” 

My mother and I heard this, which he in all probability 
said loud enough for us to hear. Indignantly and 
silently I looked at my mother, but her face was cold and 
calm. 


CHAPTER V. 

The next day, Eugenie having recovered sooner than 
we expected, preparations were begun for our departure. 

My poor friend was in a state of nervous excitement 
which caused her to start when a leaf of the wild vines 
which shaded our veranda fell upon her work or an 
insect buzzed about her. 

I watched her unnoticed; she lived in one continual 
agitation, which might have been occasioned by shame 
at her attempt at suicide, or fear of something unknown 
even to herself. 

The cause of this could easily be guessed; she was 
evidently afraid of my brother, of some malicious act on 
his part, and I tried to calm her by repeating that in a 
few days we should leave the castle. And even then it 
seemed as if she were not satisfied. 


42 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


How inconsistent is a maiden’s heart! How far from 
me was it then to suspect that Eugenie, notwithstanding 
all the unkindness which my brother had shown her 
from the time he was a child, if she did not really love 
him, still had a weakness for him, which bade her forgive 
all, forget all the tears which he had already caused 
her. 

Even on the afternoon after her desperate deed, as 
she, still weak and exhausted, lay upon the bed, and I sat 
with her in her room, it was impossible to induce her to 
confess that she had Hermann to thank for those red 
streaks upon her wrists, the traces of which had not yet 
disappeared. 

She remained obstinately silent, and no entreaties 
succeeded in drawing any satisfaction from her. 

Had I then known what I found out later, I should 
have understood what had driven her to choose the lake 
rather than my mother’s protection from my brother’s 
cruelty. I should then have rightly comprehended her 
“ c’est plus fort que moil ” 

Hermann’s personal beauty unfortunately charmed all 
the ladies ; and the openness with which they offered 
their admiration sufficed to make my brother undervalue 
it, and treat it, in many instances, with disdain. 

He was capable of trampling upon the feelings of the 
loveliest woman, if she were foolish enough to show him 
that she had any liking for him. At twenty years of age 
he spoke of women as inferior beings, and even in my 
mother’s presence, he occasionally dared to make such 
remarks ; he spoke disparagingly of young ladies who 
had visited us, whom we had cause to esteem, but who 
had probably naively or imprudently allowed him to read 
their hearts, and he seemed to make merry at the atten- 
tion they paid hipai 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 43 

If it is a weakness of our sex, it is at the same time 
their ruin, to forget themselves for one moment so far as 
to worship the lords of creation, whose selfishness knows 
no gratitude, no forbearance, no mercy! 

Poor Eugenie had been weak enough to do this. The 
cavalier in my brother had dazzled her, and where as a 
child she had only tears of pardon in her eyes for all his 
mischievous pranks, it had grown into a habit, a weak- 
ness with her, which compelled her to pardon everything 
he did, even if it wounded her. 

Eugenie was such an unselfish, kind-hearted soul, that 
whatever happened to her, she could pardon; that is — 
where she loved. 

I did not know, and dreaded knowing, what had hap- 
pened in the wood; but when Hermann, in all proba- 
bility suspecting Eugenie’s love for him, put the finish- 
ing touches to his cruelty, she would rather have 
inflicted punishment upon herself than have been 
obliged to betray him. 

Perhaps I was correct in my surmises that Eugenie did 
not take walks in the woods without a purpose; that she 
met Hermann there, and possibly this might have led to 
meetings whose issue she might have had cause to fear 
had she not been blind! 

Had I known this, I do not know if I could have been 
angry with her; Eugenie was not sensual. I had never 
noticed anything about her that had betrayed signs of 
levity; I was then of the opinion that prudence governed 
all of her actions. 

How many innumerable times had ly^ccasion to observe 
her self-control, her wise calculations, that is for her age, 
a certain premature philosophy; and how in the midst of 
her greatest exuberance of spirits, to which her sense of 
humor led her, she would suddenly collect herself, 


44 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

assume a knowing air, and denounce herself for her 
silliness! 

And this girl was unhappy enough to love a man, who, 
if he despised the whole female sex, considered her, on 
account of her social standing, the lowest and most con- 
temptible; who, after she had perhaps been foolish 
enough to show him the least sign of interest, must 
become her ruin, if she, instead of twice as eagerly flee- 
ing from him, threw herself in his way. 

As I knew my brother well, I imagined that at that 
rencontre he had discovered more character in Eugenie 
than he had thought for, and on that account had vented 
his rudeness upon her. 

But who can tell how great a cause or provocation a 
nature like his would need to bring about a burst of 
passion? Hermann could indulge his wild instincts with- 
out so weighty a motive as hate, for such outbursts were 
second nature to him, and he practiced them in the 
province of his right as master, upon which he laid the 
highest value.. 

What was a poor creature like Eugenie, who was 
entirely at his mercy, to him, though she were under his 
mother’s protection — his mother, who in his eyes, was 
also only a — woman ! 

Our departure was to take place in a few days. About 
a week had passed since that scene; my mother had a 
number of calls to pay in town, and numerous business 
matters to attend to. 

The relations between her and Hermann were cold and 
formal. That scene was not mentioned. My brother 
knew the cause of her coolness; he saw it in our prepa- 
rations for a journey and my mother’s business arrange- 
ments. 

Nothing betrayed that he repented in the least; repent- 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


45 


ance was a stranger to him. It seemed to me as if he 
were quite satisfied, for, as he had said, our departure 
would free him from our troublesome criticism, though, 
indeed, he had never paid much attention to it. 

Moreover, something else had happened which made 
our stay at the castle unpleasant, yes, even uncomforta- 
ble, as Hermann found no pleasure in protecting us poor 
women. 

In my father’s time, there had been many complaints 
of idle, vagabondish tramps, who committed all sorts of 
trespasses on the surrounding country, who set fire to 
several barns, and in the midst of the excitement perpe- 
trated bold thefts. 

The large forests of the neighboring estates, as well as 
our own, afforded a ready shelter for these people. Sev- 
eral individuals, one of whom lived in our village, had 
been suspected, but nothing could be proven against 
them. So they had to have the woods searched, to put 
on a double guard in the village, and after that people 
were more contented, as no excesses had been committed 
for quite awhile. 

Then all were again alarmed by the news of a 
murder, which had occurred in the woods near our 
castle. 

The nephew of our forester, who lived in the woods, 
was found dead there in a spot thickly overgrown with 
bracken. A bullet had pierced his heart, passed out at 
his back, and imbedded itself an inch deep in the bark 
of a tree. ^ 

When my brother, as lord of the manor, was informed 
of this early in the morning as he was dressing, he 
exclaimed that it did not concern him; they should acquaint 
the police of it; no doubt incendiaries were again at work 
in the vicinity. 


46 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

A groom at once mounted his horse and hurried to 
town with the announcement. 

We begged Hermann to take some men and hasten to 
the place of disaster. 

He said, however, that he did not wish to be disturbed 
at his breakfast; it was the affair of the old forester and 
his family. Why had he not watched the woods, as it 
was his duty to do? and which he, of course, had neglected, 
for he grew daily blinder. Now he could take the con- 
sequences. 

This event affected my mother and me deeply, setting 
aside the fear with which it inspired us. The unfortu- 
nate man had been well-educated; his uncle had furnished 
him with the means with which to attend the academy, 
from which he had recently returned. When he helped 
his uncle in his work, he did so because the latter was 
half-blinded from the effects of rheumatic fever, and he 
was bound to him by gratitude. 

They said that he only staid with the forester for the 
sake of his daughter, his pretty cousin, who often visited 
Eugenie; who, when we had teased her, assured us that 
their liking was mutual, but there was nothing serious in 
it, for her cousin had found a sweetheart in town, while 
at the academy. 

Hermann, who once met us at the forester’s, reproved 
us; he said it was very unbecoming for us to go there. 
But we knew that he was always glad of an excuse to 
stop himself ! 

Hermann’s indifference about the murder vexed 
us. Still, it was his nature. Sympathy for the 
troubles of others had always seemed like sentimen- 
tality to him. Therefore my mother felt that she 
must do more in the matter; while Hermann was 
amusing himself that morning in the stables as if 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 47 

nothing had occurred, she sent messengers to town and 
to the forester’s. 

Although Hermann said: “What can we do?” at her 
command the steward had to repair with some men to 
the spot and set up a guard, so that the curious might 
not possess themselves of any objects which might lead 
to the detection of the murderer. 

The steward was to see to matters at the forester’s, to 
assure him and his daughter of our heartfelt sympathy, 
and to tell him that my mother would have come in per- 
son had she not been afraid. 

In the course of the morning I saw a carriage contain- 
ing some gentlemen pass by the castle on their way to 
the woods, guided by the groom and followed by a num- 
ber of mounted gens d' armes. They staid at the fores- 
ter’s all that day, and came again the next and the 
next. 

That same person, of whom I have already spoken, an 
unemployed day-laborer, was arrested on the strongest 
suspicion. They found a gun concealed, a valuable 
fowling-piece, with cartridges, which must surely have 
been stolen. The bullet which was taken from the bark 
of the oak tree exactly fitted the barrel. 

At the time of the murder this man had not been at 
home, but said that he was out looking for mushrooms, 
which he sold in town in order to earn his daily bread. 

One of the police officers who reported to my mother, 
told US' that at first they had thought it was robbery 
attended by murder, but no robbery had been committed, 
as they had found the man’s watch and purse in his room; 
still, it was not improbable that such a thing had been 
intended. 

It was very plain that between the murdered man and 
his assailant a struggle had taken place, and probably the 


48 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

latter had seized the former by the breast and thrown 
him down. 

Then, as he tried to rise, the huntsman must have 
placed his gun on his breast and sent a bullet through it; 
the burnt places about the breast on his clothing, and the 
course of the bullet, showed quite plainly that there could 
have been very little space between the muzzle of the gun 
and the breast of the murdered man. Death must have 
been instantaneous. According to all appearances it 
looked as if the man had been just in the act of lighting 
his pipe, for one was found quite near his body, and some 
matches were strewn upon the ground, which must have 
fallen from a tinder-box, which was missing. 

The forester’s daughter described it minutely, for it 
had been a gift from her; the silver plate bore his name, 
“ Gustav Richtmann,” upon it. 

In vain had they examined the ground round about, 
mowed down the grass and weeds, cut off the lowest 
boughs of the trees, in case it might have lodged there 
when they were wrestling; it was not to be found. 

It was natural to conclude finally, that robbery had 
been intended, when the tinder-box could not be discov- 
ered, for had not lives been often sacrificed for less 
than that ? The murderer had only taken what in his 
hurry he could find. 

The laborer, who was in custody, had obstinately 
denied the deed. Two barrels of the gun had been 
emptied. He had been examined at once in the village, 
but confessed nothing, maintained his innocence by all 
that was holy, and drew forth a whole bag of mushrooms, 
which, he said, he had gathered in quite another direction. 

However, the magistrates were convinced that they 
would soon bring him to terms, for he had often been 
tried before. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 49 

After the officers left, our feeling of uneasiness 
increased tenfold. 

Only Hermann did not seem nervous. He took his 
usual rides, accompanied by his confidential valet, a 
peasant lad, who from his youth had put up with all 
Hermann’s unkindness, if only my father would repay 
him for his pain with a few pieces of money, and later 
he became my brother’s indispensable, discreet cat’s-paw. 

While my mother was much disturbed and longed to 
be gone, Eugenie appeared to be in a kind of dream. 
She confessed to me that the thought of this murder 
kept her continually in a kind of ague; that she had 
cold chills down her back; that the excitement had totally 
relaxed her nerves, and therefore she was obliged to 
leave the room when the circumstances of the murder 
were mentioned. 

Since the news of the crime which was perpetrated in 
our immediate neighborhood had reached us, she said 
with a face deathly pale, since she had seen the strangers 
and police officers going in and out of the castle, had 
heard their gens d' armes with their clanking sabres, since 
everything spoke only of this murder, she felt as if 
she were paralyzed, and indeed she was always in 
such a nervous condition that she started at every 
sound. 

As she, standing at the window, saw the gens d' armes 
leading away the man suspected of the murder, with his 
hands bound behind him, a cry escaped her; she put her 
hands before her face and turned away. 

When my mother, who was near her, reproved her, she 
begged her pardon. She could not bear to see such 
things, she said. The thought of the poor wife, whom 
he was leaving, of the innocent children who would now 
suffer, was terrible. 

4 


50 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

Indeed, an hour later she was with the woman, and 
had taken her a considerable sum of money, although 
she told me it was only a trifle, and asked me to speak 
to my mother about them, so that the poor woman with 
her children should not be left to starve. 

Toward evening of the same day, when I sought and 
found her in her room, she was reclining in the Ameri- 
can rocking-chair, which I had given her, as she had 
always wished for one; what had happened, together 
with fear, had overpowered her. 

I approached her. She was fast asleep, and breathing 
very irregularly. 

Suddenly she moved her lips. 

Non^ non! Four V amour de DieuF she whispered 
in her mother tongue, as she usually did when she talked 
in her sleep. Faut pas punir celui-laF 

I was obliged to awaken her, as my mother needed 
her. 

Eugenie opened her eyes, rubbed them, gazed wildly 
at me, sprang up, tottered, and was obliged to sit down 
in order to collect herself. 

I had to bear with the poor girl, for she was still suf- 
fering from the effects of her rash attempt at suicide, 
and at times I feared that her mind had suffered from 
her leap into the sea. 

It had only needed that terrible murder to make the 
already over-excited girl beside herself. 

In the meantime, the remembrance of the deed did not 
die out, but not much was said about it. When it was 
mentioned, everybody knew the latest news, and what 
the court had decided. All this was nothing but gossip, 
for we only heard the truth; the suspected man had 
denied the charge, but could not prove an alibiy so sus- 
picion still rested upon him. 


THE GOLGOTHA OP THE HEART. 


51 


CHAPTER VI. 

Eight days had gone by. The time had arrived for 
our departure, which had been delayed owing to that 
unfortunate incident. 

Eugenie took especial pains to conceal an inward 
unrest, which her face and her manner could not always 
mask. 

As at that time I had no suspicion of what was pass- 
ing within her, I put it down to the feverish after effects 
of her desperate deed, and paid less attention to it than 
I should have done. 

For hours, sometimes, she would carefully keep out of 
our way. 

On the morning of the day before our setting out, I 
accompanied my mother to town. 

Eugenie was to go with us, but she refused with per- 
ceptible anxiety, and plead the necessity of arranging 
her wardrobe for our journey. 

The peculiar pallor of her face, her haste in speaking, 
the timidity with which she sought to avoid my gaze, 
struck me. 

“Eugenie, you are hiding something from me!” 

“No, indeed! why should I? You know, countess, 
that I have never had any secrets from you!” 

Eugenie’s voice trembled slightly. 

She found some work to do, so that I should not see 
the sudden blush which suffused her cheeks, but which 
did not escape me. 

“ It would be better if you would drive with us!” I 
urged emphatically. 


52 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

Perhaps!” answered she, softly, still busied. But 
your dresses need some attention, too, and you would 
be vexed with me if everything were not ready to-mor- 
row morning!” 

I knew that this pretext was very poor, for that was 
my maid’s business, not hers. 

‘‘Well, au revoir, Eugenie!” 

The carriage was at the door; I heard my mother’s 
voice call my name. 

Au revoirf^ 

This last word seemed to require an effort. I looked 
once more into the room from the door, and saw that 
Eugenie turned hastily toward me, and then restrained 
herself. 

As I, together with my mother, left the court-yard, 
and our carriage rolled along the high road lined with 
poplars, my mother broke the silence. 

“ Something must trouble Eugenie which she is keep- 
ing from us. She is absent-minded, nervous, and often 
has palpitation of the heart, which I never noticed before; 
in the morning, too, her eyes betray sleepless nights. It 
is strange what can be the matter with the poor girl!” 

“ It would be best, mother, if, when we return to-night, 
you would talk with her! She was always so frank; 
since that unlucky day she seems to have changed, and 
really since yesterday I can not understand her at all. 
She used to confide in me; now she does not do so. 
Formerly there was nothing that she kept from me; now 
she is reserved, and though I can excuse her nervous- 
ness, I think that talking about herself would comfort 
her.” My mother was silent and seemed to be deep in 
thought. Perhaps she had seen through Eugenie’s 
behavior better than I, and did not wish to tell me what 
she knew or suspected. At rJl events, she was uncom- 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 53 

fortable, knowing Eugenie to be alone in the castle, and 
this feeling of uneasiness did not leave her in town, 
where she had several calls to pay and some matters to 
attend to; for, since my father’s death, she had managed 
her own fortune and showed surprising cleverness and 
circumspection. 

Returning toward four o’clock, somewhat sooner than 
we had anticipated, we found the servants in groups 
about the court-yard. At the sight of us they looked 
startled, whispered to one another, and showed other 
signs of surprise. The eyes of the women and girls 
were fastened on the small chapel, situated in the center 
of a Campo Santo; which chapel my father had had 
built very artistically, and upon the architecture of which 
he had expended much time and money. 

The lackeys who received us seemed just as disturbed. 
My mother’s maid, who was descending the stairs, upon 
seeing us, was visibly delighted; we both felt that some- 
thing unusual must have happened. 

“ Thank God, that you have come, gracious madame,” 
cried the woman, half aloud, so that the lackeys should 
not hear her, while she followed us up the steps. 

“ What is the matter, Gertrude?” asked my mother, 
turning to her as we reached the hall. 

Gertrude waited until the servant had entered the 
corridor with the packages, and in the meantime sought 
for words in which to express herself. 

“What is it, gracious countess? I do not quite under- 
stand, but ” 

“Where is Eugenie?” interrupted my mother, sus- 
piciously. 

“That is just it! My God! but it was a ter- 
rible scene to which we were all witnesses. Scarcely 
half an hour ago — my heart is throbbing yet — the count 


54 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART.' 

sent for her. She obeyed his command. I saw her, 
deathly pale and tottering, creep through the corridor, 
and then I suspected no good. In vain I called out to 
her to hide until the countess returned; I even opened 
the door leading to the tower for her, to which only I 
have the key; but I might as well have talked to the 
wall; she did not hear; she seemed deaf and blind; I 
imagined that the count intended to do some mischief; 
she would not be held back. In the meantime I saw the 
priest and the village school-master enter the castle court 
and walk straight toward the chapel. The priest wore 
his vestments, and had under his arm the large book 
which he uses at weddings and baptisms; the school- 
master was dressed all in black, with white gloves, and 
looked like a ghost. Two people from the village walked 
behind them, their eyes on the ground like ‘ miserable 
sinners!' It was a procession as if someone were going 
to be executed. Then, in less than five minutes, we all 
saw the count, followed by Mademoiselle Eugenie more 
dead than alive, cross the castle steps to the chapel, 
whose door was locked behind them. God protect the 
poor girl. There is something dreadful happening to 
her, and in a holy place!” 

With that Gertrude quickly crossed herself. 

My mother and I stood there as if turned to stone. 

Hermann and Eugenie, the priest, the sChool-master 

all in the chapel Hermann must have taken 

advantage of our absence to 

I dared not utter my thoughts. 

Then my mother suddenly started up. Indignation 
and determination upon her brow. 

“ Go to your room, Paula!” she cried out to me, pale, 
solemn, and majestic, in a firm voice. “ Go with my 
daughter!” she commanded her maid, and passing 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 55 

down the corridor which led to the side steps, she dis- 
appeared. 

I had neither the time nor the deliberation to oppose 
my mother's orders, or to follow her from my own 
inclination. Not being able to seek my room, I threw my 
shawl over the maid's arm and hurried into the hall. I 
needed air, and from there I could see the chapel and 
the door through which my mother would have to pass 
to enter it. A terrible fear possessed me and made me 
tremble, as I stood looking out upon the terrace. 

My mother appeared after a few seconds in the Campo 
Santo and entered the chapel hastily. 

How gladly would I have been with herl My heart 
beat violently and my gaze was fastened upon the chapel 
door, though my agitation would not allow me to picture 
to myself what was passing within. 

Several minutes passed so. 

Then my mother appeared in the gothic door. On 
her arm hung Eugenie, her pale face bowed down 
with shame, and with faltering limbs, rather being dragged 
away than walking; and hurrying toward the entrance 
to the Campo Santo was my maid, who, at a sign from 
my mother, seized the fainting girl by her other arm, and 
supporting her between them, they led her into the 
castle. • 

I, too, ran back, and just arrived there as Eugenie 
with a cry of anguish fainted at the foot of the stairs. 

My mother was so wrought up that she had to lean 
against the balusters until she recovered. The maid, in 
the meantime, made vain attempts to raise the uncon- 
/ scions girl; we had to call more servants to help carry 
her up-stairs to her room, where, after working over her a 
long time, Eugenie regained consciousness. 

\Vhat had taken place in the chapel? 


56 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

Hermann had quietly prepared for that which he had 
threatened. He had no peace until he had carried out 
that threat in defiance of his mother’s wishes, and in his 
vindictiveness had arranged everything so that we should 
know nothing about it. 

The priest, a weak, old man, who served his patron, 
rather than his God, was obliged to consent to celebrate 
the marriage between Eugenie and the school-master, and 
the latter, a green, foolish fellow, was so dazed by the 
favors heaped upon him by his patron, by the good 
fortune which fell upon his stupid head, that anything 
could be done with him by his “ Excellency.” 

But Eugenie? 

It has always been incomprehensible to me, if she 
suspected any danger, she had not avoided it; why upon 
just that day had she staid at the castle? Her agitation, 
her poor excuse for remaining, both awoke the suspicion 
that she had expected something to happen, and if that 
was the case, why had she remained? 

Had Hermann succeeded in detaining her by means of 
some deceit? Had her misguided heart trusted in him? 

Or rather and these questions brought up others; had 

she consented to marry this blockhead in order to be 
near Hermann, to be able to see him, if only from the 
degraded position to which his dislike, his arbitrariness 
had assigned her? 

Eugenie was to mean absolute conundrum; and I, too 
simple to solve it. Any one else I should have despised 
for such weakness, such slavish love, but for her I only 
felt the deepest pity. 

^ And my sympathy increased as my mother depicted to 
me what had happened in the church, while that evening 
the poor creature lay in a high fever. 

On her entrance, the priest was just about to join the 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 57 

hands of those whom Hermann’s malice was to sacrifice. 
Until then, Eugenie, probably summoning all her physi- 
cal powers, had kept up; now with a cry of anguish she 
sank down, and my mother reached the altar just at 
the right time, that is, to catch her. 

The sight of her froze the words on the tongue of the 
servile priest; her reproving glance made him fall back 
humbly, while his eyes sought Hermann, who was sitting 
in one of the front pews, as if he expected to shield him 
from the countess’ anger. 

Without taking the least notice of the others, she bent 
over the unconscious girl. 

“ Compose yourself, Eugenie! I command you!” she 
whispered in her ear, and essayed to raise her. 

. The girl trembled at these words. She recognized my 
mother’s voice, opened her eyes, raised herself with diffi- 
culty, and breathing a “pardon!” allowed herself to be 
led from the altar. 

Hermann, very much surprised at the interruption, 
had not dared to use his authority as lord of the manor 
in that place. With an oath, a few minutes afterward, 
he had left and gone into the park, slamming the door 
behind him. 

The priest and the school-master left the church, fol- 
lowed by the witnesses, with eyes cast down, and crossed 
the court to a door near by, so as not to meet the stable 
boys who were standing about in groups, as also were 
the other men-servants and maids. 

My mother kept her opinion of this strange affair to 
herself, for it was impossible that what was evident to 
my inexperience should have escaped her sharp eyes, 
although she saw less of Eugenie than I. She was very 
much put out, but was not angry with the unhappy girl. 

The necessity of postponing our departure until her 


58 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


recovery interfered with her plans. She had grown as 
fond as I had of Eugenie; to leave her behind, unpro- 
tected, to expose herself anew to Hermann’s malice, was 
out of the question; we therefore had to be patient. 

Eight days later, during which time we heard of my 
brother only through his servant, who said that he was 
preparing for a journey, we got ready for our trip. 

My mother had talked seriously with Eugenie, as soon 
as she had sufficiently recovered, and had perhaps ob- 
tained from her the solution of the riddle. If Eugenie 
confessed, and what she said, I never found out. But 
she was more composed than she had been, and seemed 
to take an interest in our journey, which she had not 
taken before her illness. 

Our parting from Hermann was distant and formal. 
As he stood at the carriage, he did not even glance at 
Eugenie. Occasionally I looked at her; she was pale; 
I could see how difficult it was for her to keep back her 
tears. 

She drew her veil over her face, so as not to betray 
herself. My brother put out his hand to me without a 
word of farewell, neither did I deign to speak to him. 
Our carriage, which was to take us to the station, had not 
yet left the court, when he was in the saddle, on his way 
to visit a neighboring land-owner, with whom he had 
formed a close intimacy in his childhood; an intimacy 
which had its basis and permanence in like opinions, by 
which the friend, the elder, drew my brother all too 
early into a dissolute life. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


59 


CHAPTER VII. 

How different everything is about us. 

For a year we have been at the “ Residence,” the same 
at which my father played such a brilliant part, which he 
left through wounded vanity. 

My mother did not choose this abode without a certain 
prejudice. Perhaps she was drawn thither by several, 
to her, well-known circles, which it interested her to see 
again. It had been her purpose only to remain a short 
time, but society welcomed us so warmly, that my 
mother very soon felt at home and decided to stay, as 
her often recurring illnesses had lately made traveling 
very difficult for her. 

Here, where my father had shone at court as a hand- 
some and clever young man, where he was remembered 
yet as such by the older ladies, it pleased them to 
approach the widow of the same, the woman who had 
succeeded in fascinating the once so unsusceptible 
Count von M. 

Even the king himself, now a very aged man, seemed 
bent upon showing my mother how much he mourned 
the loss of an officer and friend, whose sensitiveness had 
not angered him, although he was not able to hinder his 
leaving the ministry. The king came in person to tell 
my mother how sincerely he had preserved the memory 
of the departed. 

This probably influenced my mother to remain. She, 
who had formerly been the leader of society, now felt 
the need of shining in the same sphere by means of her 
mind, as she had done before by her beauty. She no 


60 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

doubt desired to have a settled home, when she should 
grow tired of traveling; all thoughts of returning to the 
castle, she had entirely given up. 

The castle, once the center of the aristocratic dlite, 
had now, through Hermann’s dissolute and etiquette- 
despising life, become the caravansary of adventurers. 

The aristocracy avoided the place, for my brother had 
built a theatre of his own there, for which singers, both 
male and female, were sent to him from Paris, whom he 
entertained royally. 

My father’s tilt-yard had been turned into caroussels, 
for which he engaged horsewomen, and his hunts were 
always attended by Dianas, who were feted by him as 
his guests. 

There was, therefore, no prospect of our returning to 
the castle, so my mother bought a charming villa at the 
gates of the Residence, which she furnished with her 
refined and faultless taste. There was a possibility that 
Hermann would honor the Residence for a time with 
his presence during the winter seasoh, which piece of 
news we first received from my mother’s attorney. 

Eugenie was not with us; we even knew nothing of her 
whereabouts. 

The poor creature had changed altogether since we left 
the castle. Once so merry, so amiable, so entertaining, 
she became during the first part of dur journey pensive, 
moody, and melancholy. 

She seemed to belong to those natures that can only 
exist in extremes. Formerly she had been most careful 
about her toilet; she now neglected it, did not consider it 
worth her while to appear to the best advantage, scorned 
all personal vanity, and sought solitude. 

Eugenie’s face, her whole bearing, betrayed some 
trouble of the mind. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 61 

Her eyes had that glassy, lifeless appearance, her 
temples were sunken in; she sometimes complained of 
pain in them. About her mouth there was often a con- 
vulsive twitching, and if any one came upon her suddenly, 
she would start. She evidently was sujffering from a 
nervous affection. 

I noticed how my mother would often watch her mis- 
trustfully, how she silently and disapprovingly would 
shake her head at these changes. It did not escape me 
that, in her manner toward her, my mother was at first 
cool and distant, and then gradually grew colder and 
more indifferent. 

The consequence was an entire estrangement between 
them, in which I suffered the most; for, in spite of every- 
thing, Eugenie was as dear to me, and I thought it im- 
possible that I could ever live without her. 

My mother’s dislike to her grew every day more pro- 
nounced; but the first time that she expressed it was when 
Eugenie, absent and disturbed as she often was, joined in 
the conversation in the presence of some visitors; my 
mother had often overlooked this before, but now she 
reprimanded her. I myself was startled. 

I had been accustomed to so much forbearance and 
justness on my mother’s part, that her correction surprised 
even me; I would gladly have been reproved in place of 
Eugenie. 

The latter colored to her brows. Then her face turned 
pale. Her eyes moved from one object to another rest- 
lessly, probably to avoid my gaze, which, as she well 
knew, besought her to forgive my mother. 

Eugenie that evening was humility personified. She 
seemed to wish to intimate that she knew her place as a 
servant, and would keep it. When I succeeded in obtain- 
ing a few moments alone with her, she said to me, with a 


62 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

resignation in which mortification was plainly visible, that 
she knew, and had often said, she should abuse my moth- 
er’s infinite kindness, which had led her to overstep the 
limits of her position. 

My mother usually tried to make amends for any wound 
she inflicted, but toward Eugenie the next morning she 
was just as distant as she had been, much to my astonish- 
ment. 

When I begged her not to hurt the poor girl’s feelings, 
and said that she was an orphan, absolutely dependent 
upon us, my mother asked me, with her usual composure, 
not to interfere, and from that time forth I regarded 
Eugenie with a certain secret awe, saying to myself that 
my mother must have good reasons for treating her so; 
reasons which she had not named to me, and which there- 
fore troubled and made me anxious. 

What I had anticipated, came to pass. 

In about eight days Eugenie asked my mother for her 
dismissal, which she accorded her. 

Never had I dreamed that such a thing could happen, 
for Eugenie had always been to me as one of our own 
family, and as such' had always been treated from a 
child. 

I heard of it first through my maid, and hastened to 
my mother, as Eugenie had gone to town. She con- 
firmed the news. I implored her for consideration, for 
forbearance with Eugenie — what would become of her! 

That she could not tell me herself, or she did not wish 
to tell me,” answered my mother, gravely and quietly. 
I urged her not to let her go. 

“ It will do her good; and if not, she will be answer- 
able for the rest,” my mother informed me. I have 
always been free from all prejudices of rank, and never 
could approve of it in your father,” she added; “but 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 63 

the experience that I have had with this girl has taught 
me a lesson, which serves as a justification of his ideas. 
I am compelled to believe, against my will, that extrac- 
tion, or as it is called, blood, influences a person’s devel- 
opment, his actions and thoughts; that certain conditions 
are born in him, against which all training is powerless. 
Eugenie, as the matron of the asylum from which we 
took her, wrote me, comes from the lowest class; her 
father took his own life, just as he was about to be 
arrested for some offense, and her mother abandoned 
her child because she could not provide for it. I was 
truly delighted to see the girl promise to be so talented, 
sweet, and good; but from the time when she began to 
think for herself, it seemed to me as if she returned to 
the law of nature from which she sprang, as if the wild 
shoots came from her as from an artificially per- 
fected plant, which it would cost us more care and 
trouble to suppress than our position in society would 
allow of. Besides, you see, it pains her if I treat her 
according to her station; it is better that we spare our- 
selves ill-will and ingratitude, which I see already 
arising.” 

I could have made hundreds of excuses for the girl, 
but my mother’s reasons were sacred to me — and the 
confidence with which she spoke, prevented all remon- 
strance. I gave in to her better judgment, although it 
was a great trial to me. 

My heart ached as the time drew near for Eugenie to 
leave us. 

When I asked her what she intended doing, she gave 
me an evasive answer; still, it was evident that she took 
pains during the last week of her stay to show the 
deepest gratitude, from which could be seen at times 
bitterness and the consciousness of an injustice, which 


64 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HF .AT. 

were in some measure mitigated, when she saw how I 
exerted myself to convince her of my sorrow at this 
unexpected separation. 

As Eugenie bade my mother farewell, kissed her 
hand, and turned from her with suppressed sobs, the 
latter’s austerity seemed to relax. 

I saw that she was inclined to bid Eugenie stay. How- 
ever, she quickly controlled herself, pressed her hand, 
said a few kind words to her, then turned away and 
entered her boudoir. 

Then Eugenie did not try to restrain her sobs. Indif- 
ferent to the proprieties, v/hich had once been so sacred 
to her, she threw herself on my breast, weeping bitterly, 
then rushed out and hurried into the cab which awaited 
her outside. 

As I approached to bid her adieu once more, my eyes 
filled with tears, hers were tearless. Her features were 
cold and set. 

She had summoned up all her pride in order to leave 
us, apparently, of her own free will. 

Either she did not see my mother standing at the 
window, or pretended not to; the carriage rolled away, 
and with it went a piece of my heart. 

I felt very lonesome. When I entered the house, I 
threw myself down in a corner and wept. 

Already at noon my mother had a surprise for me. 
Marie von Mühlberg, the daughter of a deceased royal 
official, who had left his family a small sum of money 
which had been confiscated by the crown, appeared at 
our table. Her father had been seized with apoplexy 
upon finding that some thousands of dollars were miss- 
ing from the treasury; and, as the sum was lacking after 
his death, all that his family had to depend upon was 
taken from them. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 65 

Marie lived in our neighborhood. She embroidered 
for us and for several other families, in order to support 
herself and her mother. My mother, when Eugenie asked 
leave to go, proposed that Marie should come as my 
companion, for which service her mother should receive 
sufficient annually to make her comfortable. 

This young girl, who was about my age, had interested 
me some time. Whenever she came to see us, I insisted 
upon her staying, and was so friendly toward her, that 
Eugenie would jealously turn up her nose. 

She was so aristocratic in her manner, and so refined, 
that my mother thought it indelicate to hand Marie the 
money when she brought home her work, and would 
send it to her by a maid, with a few polite lines and a 
little extra pay. 

Marie was about my size — she was as slender as a 
palm — her waist could be easily spanned; her hair was a 
shade darker than mine. 

Her light brown eyes were very bright, their express- 
ion was gentle, and her lashes long and dark. About 
her mouth there played a charming smile; her move- 
ments were graceful and easy. 

Her dress was chosen with good taste, notwithstand- 
ing her poverty; one could see that it had been well 
taken care of, yet it would have required a critical, fem- 
inine eye to find any fault with it. 

But what was the most noticeable about her, and 
what she did not take any pains to hide, were the scars 
made by her daily struggle for bread, the scars from 
the use of the needle on her fingers, on those beauti- 
fully-formed hands; whosoever saw those scars could 
guess why her large, almond-shaped eyes were slightly 
inflamed. 

I had known a long time that she sat up nights, in 
5 




66 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

order to support herself and her poor mother by her 
toilsome and poorly-paid work. 

How often, when returning home at midnight, had I 
seen a light in her window. She was sitting up to work 
so that she might earn a few crowns more, and spoil her 
lovely eyes in order that her mother, who had been so 
sorely tried, might not suffer. 

As she sat opposite me that day at the table, my eyes 
involuntarily rested on the marks on her fingers. I 
took myself to task, still I could not help seeing 
them. 

Marie noticed it, but no warrior ever bore his scars 
more bravely than did she hers. As she met my eyes, 
she looked at me so good-naturedly, so modestly, and 
so calmly, not at all reproachfully, not even the least 
bit vexed, that I felt as if I must beg her pardon. 

In the afternoon, on the first opportunity that offered, 
I took her hand and pressed it between both of mine. 
I think she understood me. 

My mother knew of the interest I took in this charm- 
ing girl, whose sphere should have been the salon, 
not the garret ; she knew that I always admired 
womanly beauty without envy, that in company I was 
apt to forget the effect of my appearance in the admira- 
tion of others. 

I was faithless enough ; toward my old friend, who 
had just departed, to forget her almost entirely in the 
joy pf having Marie with me. It was partly Eugenie’s 
own fault, for she herself had taught me to forget her 
former merry moods ; for latterly she had been quite 
changed, and though during the first few days of my 
intercourse with Marie I missed . Eugenie’s special 
peculiarities and habits, her quick, variable temper, Still 
the gentle ways of my new friend suited me so well, that 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 67 

it really seemed to me at times as if she were more 
fitted for my companion. 

Yet I thought kindly of Eugenie, perhaps more so 
because my mother never mentioned her, and purposely 
avoided bringing her name into our conversations. 

What words can describe our astonishment when, 
several weeks later, we learned that Eugenie had returned 
to the castle! My mother said not a word when she 
heard this news. On the contrary, she pressed her lips 
tightly together ; her face betrayed the deepest indigna- 
tion, and she withdrew shortly after to her room. 

Of course, I was very much excited. Eugenie again 
at the castle, that same castle where my brother was said 
to entertain such questionable characters, — Eugenie at my 
brother’s castle, where she had only been saved from his 
evil designs by my mother’s timely interference! 

It was all so inexplicable, so enigmatical to me, that 
I would have given anything to have obtained even the 
faintest clue. 

How gladly would I have consulted with my mother, 
but I did not dare to, for there must be something at the 
bottom of it, which 

Yes, in that “which” lay the problem, which later 
would be solved! 


CHAPTER VIH. 

A maiden’s first entry into society is like the life of 
a dragon-fly — shimmering and glistening in the sunshine, 
borne along by the breath of flattery, breathing in the 
perfume of flowers ; her life is like a cloudless summer’s 
day, whose horizon is adorned with golden-crowned air- 
castles and fictitious fata morgana. 


68 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

When my father died I had just made my d^but. 
Until then I had seen the world with a child’s innocent 
eyes; upon his death I left this magical world for a time. 

We lived very retired until our sorrow was somewhat 
assuaged. After that I was out in the world again, but 
it was to me as a diorama, in which I took no part. Our 
visits to the baths and different cities, our travels in 
Italy, were varied, but I took no interest in it all, until 
the time came when we felt compelled, out of consider- 
ation for ourselves, to re-enter the society to which we 
belonged. The king himself desired our presence. I 
confess, I felt the need of again mingling with people; 
though it was not a vain desire to create a “ furore,” or 
play a part, yet I longed for some of the pleasures of life, 
for diversion, for friendship. 

This new world seemed different to me from that at 
the castle; if it was enlivened by the same element, there 
was wanting that happy unrestraint which we enjoyed; 
there was more ceremony. The people were automatons, 
directed by the master of ceremonies; and when we were 
invited to court, it always seemed to me as if I did not 
dare to breathe freely, as if I had to gauge my steps and 
my movements by some pattern. 

Finally I grew accustomed to this etiquette, and if at 
first the general admiration that I received occasioned a 
certain degree of nervousness, it later made me conscious 
of my power. 

The king and the princes paid me attention; the latter 
were very stupid, and the ladies, who aspired to their 
favor, I found even more so. 

It would have been a breach of etiquette to express 
my opinion, so I kept it to myself. I did not even dare 
,to tell my mother, for she seemed proud of her daughter’s 
triumphs. My mother had aged considerably; she was 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 69 

no longer young, though she wa« still a handsome and 
clever woman. Other interests often occupied her mind, 
the years had probably brought with them a different 
view of things. 

But what troubled me was, that I could not take Marie 
into our circle. Although my mother was always affable 
to her, still she kept her in her place; not because she 
herself tried to overstep the bounds, but because I tried 
to put her forward as my equal. 

So Marie had to listen to descriptions of balls and 
soirees which she did with heavenly patience and with- 
out any envy. Of course, my admirers, of whom there 
was a host, were included in my category. 

There was the eldest prince’s Court Marshal, Monsieur 
de Chevreux, still a young man. 

He was handsome, gallant, a trifle corpulent, refined in 
his manners, but so ‘‘ sublime ” in his conversation, in his 
movements, in his smile, in his carriage, that I always 
felt as if he did not belong to this world, as if he had no 
prosaic intercourse with it. 

Chevreux was from a French family; his grandparents 
having come to Germany during the first Napoleonic 
epoch. Mindful of this origin everything about him was 
French chic. 

They said that he regularly received whole cases of 
perfumeries and cosmetics, of cambric, silk, gloves, etc., 
from Paris, and that he prided himself upon having the 
“ primeur ” of everything new. 

His friends said of him that he did not smoke, did not 
drink, had no evil passions, that his whole life, the air he 
breathed was fragrant, refined, full of chic and bon-ton. 

It was said that every morning he would spend hours 
in his “ laboratorium;” that is, in the appartments in 
which he kept his perfumes and odors arranged according 


70 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

to the rules of art and science; these rooms were said to 
be a perfect wonder of “ extracts ” and ‘‘ sues " from all 
the most celebrated manufactories, from all the flowers 
and blossoms in the world. 

One could make him miserable by telling him of some 
scent which he did not possess, for in his collection there 
were to be found all the rarest perfumes and cosmetics of 
the Orient and Indies; and if he read in any book of any 
perfume which a traveler had smelt in a Nabob’s, a 
Sahib’s, or the Mikado’s palace, Chevreux would set his 
agents in London, .Calcutta, or wherever they were, to 
hunt for it. 

His friends often played tricks on him on that ac- 
count — when an illustrious person came to court they put 
a flea in poor Chevreux’s ear by means of this visitor. 

He was to begin a conversation about the rose gardens 
of Sharon, or some such thing, and then mention some 
odor that had never been made. 

Chevreux would listen in feverish excitement. As 
soon as an opportunity afforded, he would draw the 
speaker aside, have the perfume described exactly, and 
would then spend innumerable sleepless nights, until he 
finally would find out that no such scent existed. This 
happened so often that Chevreux at last discovered the 
joke, and was on his guard. 

There was nothing more natural than that he should 
experiment in his “laboratory,” and use the products of 
his sk\ll upon his own person. 

So he bore the entire fleur of his chemistry upon 
his face, a costly enameled butterfly, and when, at differ- 
ent times, he selected the choicest perfumes from his 
laboratory, his appearance in the large saloon of the 
king’s or the prince’s palace, had the effect of a drop of 
the ottar oLroses, which shed its perfume round about. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 71 

“ One can smell him a mile away,” the king used to 
say, and one of the ladies, whose nerves were weak, could 
at first not help fainting if Chevreux was within a hun- 
dred feet of her, until she succeeded with the assistance 
of a chemist in finding an “antidote,” which she would 
sprinkle upon her handkerchief at the dangerous mo- 
ment, in order to purify the atmosphere. 

It would be unjust to say that Chevreux, in spite of 
this weakness, could not be agreeable, for he was so 
often, when he was natural. He read a great deal; he 
was very skillful in many provinces, probably in conse- 
quence of his chemical studies. He had a fine memory, 
which never failed him; therefore he served his prince 
as an indispensable oracle. He was accommodating, 
pleasant, and even self-sacrificing if he could in any way 
help anyone; his gallantry only was unbearable, sweet 
and stupefying like his perfumes, and upon the young 
ladies at court, his conversation, in conjunction with his 
odors, had the effect of a sleeping potion. 

It goes without saying that the Marquis de Chevreux 
was the court fashion-plate for all the gentlemen; his 
close connection with Paris and London pressed upon 
him a number of commissions, which he had attended 
to in both places. 

Chevreux was not wealthy. He was said to have suffi- 
cient to satisfy his own pleasures. It was reported that 
he had debts, but they never seemed to oppress him. 

I, just I, had the misfortune to inspire this man with 
a passion which, it was said, led him, through absent- 
mindedness, to commit grave mistakes in his laboratory. 
As he visited us very frequently, I was obliged to ask 
him not to use any perfumery when he came, for it made 
my head ache. 

Chevreux yielded to my request. But we heard that 


72 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

when he returned home he plunged into an ocean of 
scents. 

My mother liked him because he was the best informed 
of all the gentlement at court. I foresaw that some day 
he would speak to my mother, and that I should reject 
him, for I would rather die than become “ La Marquise 
de Pozzioli ” — for he had been so nicknamed in town. 

The marquis’ greatest bugbear was Lieutenant von 
Langenbach, who also was paying me attention; a very 
handsome man, not as “pretty” as the marquis, nor as 
well-informed, but refined, clever, energetic, a good 
dancer, following all the grand passions, and always sur- 
rounded by those invisible spirits, which whispered in the 
ladies’ ears about him. 

Langenbach was the son of poor, or, rather, not wealthy 
parents; he had been a cavalry officer, had gained favor, 
and become the youngest prince’s adjutant, as such had 
made himself a necessity at court, as an excellent dancer, 
as manager of private theatricals, tableaux, and so forth. 
He had gained such a hold at court, that he- was very 
influential; he knew how to keep the favor of the older 
ladies, who raved about him as the personification of 
amiability. 

Although I did not undertake to gainsay that recog- 
nition of his good qualities which others awarded him, 
he had something about him, which in my eyes resem- 
dled an adventurer. 

AU seemed to wish to make clear to me with a pur- 
pose, whose aim I saw through, that Langenbach was 
the abstract of all manly perfection, that his military 
career was so promising; but my instinct directed me, 
and whenever he came to us, I felt chilled and uneasy. 

Langenbach, had indeed one great virtue; he was as 
fine a narrator as one could wish to hear. When quite 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 73 

young, he had obtained leave of absence for several 
years, and entered the North American army, then, went 
to Brazil, had been with the unfortunate Emperor in 
Mexico, and when he related his experiences, one listened 
to him with delight; even I forgot the reserve which I 
always exercised when the man was near me, listened 
attentively, and took a secret delight when Chevreux 
was present, in watching his jealousy at Langenbach’s 
success. 

But when the latter was gone, and I thought it all 
over, cold chills ran through me, for his looks, more 
than his words, told me that the plans which he had 
formed, threatened my peace, my happiness. 

His manner toward my mother convinced me. I saw 
that he took particular pains to make the most favorable 
impression upon her. I noticed with anxiety how well 
he succeeded, and finally concluded that it would be 
necessary to work against his plans. 

Too long had I relied upon my mother’s penetration. 
It is incomprehensible to me, though it often happens 
that women with the clearest, quickest judgment, when 
they advance in years, allow that gift to be biased by 
trivial influences; that they, accustomed as they always 
have been to judge correctly, will side with what once 
did not seem upright to them. 

My mother was still a comparatively young woman, 
and perhaps was more alive to the honor which the inter- 
esting Langenbach showed her; perhaps she preferred 
him because in our circle Langenbach distinguished him- 
self in his conversation by a certain originality and sim- 
plicity; while Chevreux distributed the fruits of his 
scientific education and his extensive reading almost 
always in an offensively perfumed bonbonni'hre. 

Besides there was a sympathetic point of contact be- 


74 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


tween my mother and Langenbach — my brother, Her- 
mann — Langenbach had accompanied the prince to 
Paris as aide-de-camp. 

There he had met my brother, who for some time had 
been leading a life grand train in Paris, and was 
much talked about in the clubs, on the Bois, and in 
society. 

The prince, when he returned, spoke enthusiastically 
of my brother, whom he had invited to the Residence. 
I gathered that Hermann, had paid the prince great 
attention and had impressed him as a cavalier of the first 
water. 

The prince’s intelligence was limited. 

Hermann had impressed him. Langenbach seemed 
to have become very intimate with him, and that gave 
me the key to his character. I watched him attentively 
as he told my mother about her son. Was it done with 
the object of gaining her sympathy, or was it congen- 
iality? I think it was both. 

For the first time my mother heard her son praised, 
both by the prince and by Langenbach, and to her, who 
had given him up as lost, it was truly gratifying. 

It had caused her pain to give up her son; the oppor- 
tunity was only needed to awaken her maternal love in 
all its strength. 

Since the prince and Langenbach had spoken in Her- 
mann’s favor, my mother felt more charitable toward him. 

She thought she saw in her son the same energy that 
his father had possessed, but her son had not had the right 
kind of government at the age when it should have been 
developed, and which he was probably now trying to 
strengthen. From her words I soon decided that she 
reproached hetself for being too strict, and that she longed 
for a meeting with her son, whom she missed. I could 


THE GOLGOTHA OP THE HEART. 75 

not explain to myself why the acquaintance, or rather the 
friendship, between my brother and Langenbach, should 
make me uneasy. 

I anticipated nothing good from it. 

Langenbach spoke with enthusiasm of the prospect of 
having my brother with us so soon; but my heart beat 
anxiously. I tried to make excuses for Hermann’s brusque, 
reckless, and imperious ways, tried to think that, since 
our separation, he had grown more manly and considerate, 
but that he had changed, or become better, seemed to me 
impossible. 

I knew by myself how unlikely the heart was to be 
influenced by artificial, social currents. 

Chevreux and Langenbach wearied me with their atten- 
tions. I felt a kind of satisfaction when, tired of the 
former’s sweet words, I could turn to the at least more 
manly and interesting galantry of the latter; however, 
they both annoyed me, and I could not escape from them 
altogether. 

Upon one of our first appearances at the Residence, at 
a court soiree, I met a young man on whom I seemed to 
make no impression. He chanced to be one of the first 
whose acquaintance we made, but he took very little 
notice of me, or rather, he seemed purposely to treat both 
my mother and me coolly. 

While other gentlemen, who were introduced to us, 
gathered about us, and especially favored me, he avoided 
us whenever he could, without being rude. 

The mind of a young girl, before she mingles with the 
world, always forms its ideal man. This ideal takes shape 
in her imagination; she pictures his features, she sees him 
before her, she thinks she recognizes him in people she 
meets, but soon finds out that it is not yet he, that his 
speech, manner, and person do not correspond with her 


'^6 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

ideal, if his features are very like those she has portrayed 
in her mind. 

So I bore an ideal about with me, which had almost 
died out, which was scarcely recognizable, and which I 
only thought of when I compared the men, who paid me 
attention, with the image which' I bore in my heart. 

About a year before our departure from the castle, I 
met a young man one day in a neighboring town, which 
I had often visited with my mother, and that young man 
in a passing moment had made a lasting impression 
upon me. 

I never made his acquaintance, and had almost forgoten 
his personal appearance, still his features were engraven 
on my memory, and, as I said before, if any one of our 
cavaliers took pains to please me, that ideal arose, and he 
lost the game. 

This often seemed childish and silly to me, but I could 
not help it. 

At that soiree, fate ordained that Baron von Radom, 
attache of the — — embassy, who was one of the first 
introduced to us, should bear a close resemblance to my 
ideal, that his form, his bearing, yes, his whole person 
should agree with it. 

It could not be the same young man whom I had met 
before, for he, as I could perceive at that meeting, would 
move in a totally different and lower sphere. The scene 
of that recontre was a small, provincial town, while 
Radbm until now had been an attache in Paris and 
Madrid — nevertheless, he was very like my ideal, and 
that sufficed for me to treat him kindly when we first 
met, although he plainly showed that he did not attach 
any value to my treatment of him. 

Radom, with^his slender, elegant figure, his pale com- 
plexion, his grave manner, with a voice which was very 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 77 

sympathetic, obliging, and debonnair, paid all the ladies 
that evening the greatest attention, which was so much 
the more noticeable, because it betrayed no vain or selfish 
purpose, and was only in accordance with the laws and 
forms of society. That wounded my vanity! 

Radom, I told myself, was, notwithstanding the prefer- 
ence I entertained for him, nothing to me; I almost per- 
suaded myself that on close examination his face was a 
very common one, that at first I had been mistaken in 
it. I scorned the idea that it was possible to take this 
man as an ideal, when there were others much hand- 
somer, more agreeable, and more intelligent; I even 
made fun of him once, as with Eugenie — who was then 
with us — I met him on the promenade, and was vexed 
because she thought his face distingud. 

The other ladies were of the same opinion, much to 
my disgust. Who was this proud, reserved man? I asked 
myself. 

They said he was the adopted son of a wealthy Baron 
von Radom, who at his death left him his entire fortune. 
But the will was disputed by his legitimate heirs, and he 
was only given a small portion. 

The ladies asserted that he was an accomplished con- 
versationalist, but he had given me no proof of it; for 
with me he was stiff, moody, ill at ease, and reserved. 

I came to the conclusion, finally, that I was absurd 
about my “ Ideal." 

Could not Providence just as well have given to a~beg- 
gar, or a scapegrace, the features which existed in my 
imagination? 

What is Ideal? I asked myself. A whim, a caprice, 
which takes possession of the head and heart, and leaves 
room for nothing else, until experience drives it out. 

A girl’s ideal, I told myself, is nothing but a myth, 


78 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


which can not exist in the real world; therefore, I was 
as distant to Radom as it pleased him to be to me. 

As luck would have it, we did not meet again for a 
long time. Only through the papers did my mother 
learn that Radom had gone on a diplomatic mission to 
Paris, and would not return to his post for months — for 
she had not taken much notice of him, because he 
avoided us. 

I was satisfied. 

He might have been sent to China or Japan for my 
part, the farther, the better; for his cold civility in the 
presence of o-thers irritated me, it was looked upon as 
resistance to my charms, and that Was a defeat for me, 
who had become the center of attraction. 

Besides the rumor was afloat, that Radom had asked 
to be transferred to another embassy, which no one 
could understand, as he had been well treated at our 
court. 

His wishes had been met half-way, for he was allowed 
to make a change for a short time. 

Fate, however, intended that he should return. 


CHAPTER IX. 

Autumn was over. 

In the garden about our villa, a frosty wind was shak- 
ing the dead, discolored leaves and the rain-drops from 
the branches. 

The fallen leaves presented a sombre contrast to the 
evergreen— amongst the foliage could occasionally be 
seen a floweret; here and there a rose-bud peeped forth 
from the bushes^bout the summer-house; the wild-vine 
was brilliant in its gay, autumnal dress; but even the 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 79 

luscious grapes upon the walls, the little primroses, which 
blossomed at the foot of our veranda, were unable to 
revive dying nature. 

We had spent the latter part of the summer at a South- 
German watering-place^:^ had lived there quietly and 
comfortably, and held v^ry little intercourse with the 
other families there. ' ; 

My mother went there for bracing air, to convalesce 
from an illness which had repeatedly troubled her, and 
which the doctors considered serious. 

She now felt better, still she was troubled about 
her condition. Her temper was variable, often almost 
trying; illness had a material effect upon her frame of 
mind. 

I was melancholy, very often miserable. 

Marie's health, too, had been undermined by long 
years of overwork; the sacrifices she had made, had been 
too much for her; those sleepless nights spent in toil 
had completely ruined her powers, just at a time when 
they were striving for their natural development. 

She, of course, would not confess it. She smiled when 
I spoke to her about it, when I besought her to consult 
a physician, and purposely pretended to be stronger 
than she was. 

But the greatest misfortune was, that Marie was suffer- 
ing from a heart trouble, a love affair, for which no 
doctor could prescribe, and which she so anxiously con- 
cealed, although it had happened before she came to 
live with us and though she seemed to us so naive and 
free. 

The noble, patient, self-sacrificing creature knew only 
two duties, one toward me, and the other toward her 
mother. The one, she fulfilled with painful resignation, 
in order to be able to supply her mother abundantly, and 


80 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

though she did not seem to desire any happiness for her- 
self, she felt the misery of a passion which threatened to 
entirely destroy her. 

Marie, whom I had never seen anything but pale, grad- 
ually showed signs of inward suffering, without allowing 
it to have the least effect upon her work. As often as I 
begged her to be frank with me, she only smiled, looked 
at me with her clear eyes, shook her head, and main- 
tained it was only a passing indisposition, which was not 
worth noticing. 

I knew better, for our family physician had repeatedly 
looked searchingly at her. I was destined to have 
trouble with my prot4g4es. Although I was pleased to 
have Marie with us, I soon could not conceal from 
myself that the condition of her mind waspreparing 
trouble for me. 

When we returned from our vacation a confidential 
servant of ours arrived, to whom my mother, when we 
left the castle, had entrusted the management of her 
wardrobe and household goods. I suspected, I was con- 
vinced that she knew something about Eugenie’s fate, 
and, by persuasion, I succeeded in obtaining a confession 
from her. 

Poor, unhappy creature ! What I feared was only a 
suspicion of the truth, as I concluded from the woman’s 
story. 

My brother— who found the time hang heavy on his 
hands at the castle, and could only find amusement in 
the company of his dissipated friends— my brother, 
scarcely matured, with his low standard of the worth and 
social rights of women, saw in the patient, modest, and 
forbearing Eugenie, a plaything. He knew that she 
could not be vexed with him; that she had always for- 
given him when he wounded her— a forgiveness to which, 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


81 


however, he attached no importance. He, in whose 
eyes a woman was only a woman and a slave, a miserable 
creature, when he became lord of the manor, had found 
Eugenie passably pretty; she was young, piquante, fresh 
and lively; he, accustomed to the admiration of women, 
soon perceived that Eugenie, who had taken everything 
from him as a boy, looked up to him as a man with 
secret, silent adoration. 

Accidentally, of course, they met in the woods. He 
probably made himself very agreeable at these meetings, 
and she, who had always trembled before him, was caught 
by his gentle, pleasant manner. Very likely they often 
met there. 

I remember well that Eugenie, siding with my brother 
against me, once said that he could be very agreeable if 
he only wanted to be. At that time I paid no attention 
' to what she said. What could I imagine but that Her- 
mann in a fit of passing good nature had spoken kindly 
to her, and that such kindness she rated very high. 

Eugenie loved my brother; she threw herself into his 
arms. When he wearied of her, he told her one day at 
a meeting in the woods, that he had a splendid idea; she 
should marry the young school-master, who would be a 
first-rate match for her. 

She had refused; Hermann finally declared that it was 
his decision, his will, which she was to obey; if she did 
not consent on the spot, he would fasten her to a tree 
near by and let her starve. 

This was one of the common bubblings-over of his bru- 
tality, and was not surprising. 

As Eugenie resolutely refused, he whistled for his 
groom, and ordered him to bind the “ refractory hussy ” 
to a tree. The groom had told that later in confidence. 

Trembling, weeping, with a beseeching glance at the 


82 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

unmerciful man, Eugenie allowed him to bind her, and 
Hermann departed with a laugh. 

I can remember that on that day he had no thoughts 
of repentance, no feeling of compassion, for I saw him 
toward evening in the court-yard, examining several 
horses, and chatting and joking with his head-groom. 

My brother showed his cruelty in that stormy scene with 
my mother. His will should be obeyed, and when he 
saw that it was to be thwarted, he ordered Eugenie hunted 
from the court by hounds. 

The unhappy girl sought refuge in the lake. What at 
that time was incomprehensible, now became plain, 
namely: that she wanted death and not my mother’s pro- 
tection! 

Had she only found it! 

Eugenie could not be saved; I believe to-day that my 
mother knew more about the cause of the change in 
Eugenie than I. Either her sharp sight discovered 
it, or she had been privately advised of many things after 
we left the. castle. 

When Eugenie left us, she had gone directly to the 
castle. But fresh humiliation awaited here there. 

She secretly trembled when she thought of what her 
reception might be. 

But my brother received her very civilly; she had come 
opportunely. 

Hermann needed a French maid for the Parisian ad- 
venturesses, whom he had invited to visit him, and though 
she was treated contemptuously, and was evidently indif- 
ferent to the comments of the servants, who put their 
own constructions on her return, for the sake of being 
near him, she, who until now had been the companion of 
the Countess von M., and treated as a member of the 
family, submitted to play the degrading role of serving 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 83 

these women, of helping them with their toilets, of wit- 
nessing their wildest saturnals — her heart often ached at 
the sight of Hermann’s excesses, for he laughed coarsely 
when his friends attempted to caress her, and called her 
a “ silly goose ” if she did not suffer them, or threatened 
her with the “ school-master,” from whom, he said, she 
could not escape anyway, for he had pledged his word, 
and paid him the money for her dowry. 

According to Hermann’s opinion, which he had ex- 
pressed several times, she was a governess who had been 
led to believe herself something better, by his mother’s 
foolish kindness and consideration; he was a school-mas- 
ter; they were just made for one another, and Satan him- 
self should not prevent him making the couple one. And 
my brother carried out his atrocious intention. 

When autumn had advanced, Hermann decided to pre- 
pare an Oriental fete for his guests, before they and he 
departed. 

He spent thousands upon thousands in order to con- 
vert the castle, the court, the park, and lake, into a scene 
from the “Arabian Nights.” 

He ordered in town magnificent costumes for his 
guests; the small flotilla on the lake served as a Turkish 
kaik, the whole decorated with palms, orange trees, 
and costly plants, lighted by electricity, and a tourna- 
ment arranged between the Saracens and the Crusaders. 

Following the Oriental custom, he decided to have a 
marriage solemnized at this festival. 

Before he announced this surprise to his guests, he 
had Eugenie imprisoned in her room and guarded, with- 
out her suspecting what was about to happen or what 
this imprisonment meant. 

From her window she saw part of the festal arrange- 
ments. Trembling like a lamb about to be led to the 


84 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

sacrifice, she saw the festivities begin, heard the tumult, 
the strains of music, and the cannon-shots. In the after- 
noon, she saw the horses for the tournament, and the 
servants in their Oriental dress, coming from the stables, 

and at that moment they entered to array her in 

wedding garments, without telling her what was to take 
place, as they thought she knew. 

More dead than alive, Eugenie, this time defenseless, 
as she had chosen to be, was dragged forth to the chapel. 

There all the guests, half intoxicated with pleasure 
and wine, were assembled. The bride was received with 
loud acclamation, the groom’s stupid face was made an 
object of sport. 

Eugenie was nerveless and almost unconscious. Deathly 
pale, so said the housekeeper, who had witnessed the 
revolting ceremony from a corner of the chapel, Eugenie 
was led to the altar, and only when the priest stepped out 
of the sacristy did quiet reign. 

This time Hermann accomplished his knavery unhin- 
dered, even the servants did not pity the unfortunate girl, 
who had brought this upon herself. 

The next day, as Eugenie lay at the point of death in 
the wildest delirium, in the modest little house of the 
husband she had been forced to marry, the guests at the 
castle departed, and Hermann, after sleeping off his 
drunkenness, began his journey to France, without 
deigning to give his victim a pitying thought, for the 
recollection of her had vanished with the last tone of the 
festal music. 

Indeed, if he ever thought of her again, it was undoubt- 
edly with the conviction that he had provided magnani- 
mously for the girl. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


85 


CHAPTER X. 

Hermann was now expected at the Residence for the 
winter. The prince, as well as 'Langenbach, took pains 
to prepare the court for the arrival of a cavalier of whose 
accomplishments they could not speak too highly. 

I dreaded his arrival. 

To be sure, I often said to myself, when I heard these 
two gentlemen speak of my brother, that he had prob- 
ably been improved by his travels and his intercourse with 
the world; he had no doubt given in to the demands of the 
proprieties and laid aside or moderated his imperious, 
abrupt and reckless ways, and was, at least to all appear- 
ances, gentler and more pleasing, for I dared not hope 
that his character, that the principles which had been 
instilled in him by his training, had changed one iota from 
what they had been. My mother felt differently. 

She longed for her son. Although since they had 
parted, he had not favored his mother with a letter; still, 
in all probability, just that increased her yearning for 
him. Hermann was her only, her proud and gallant son, 
of whose personal successes in the gay world she had 
heard so much, and she often reproached herself for 
having left him, and took the greater part of the blame 
upon herself. Had not Eugenie caused their separation, 
and was he to blame for all that had happened since? 

She felt that she must look upon everything in a more 
liberal light ! 

Had not Hermann acted just as his father would have 
done? It was true, his father, who now seemed to her 
transformed into a god, had been gentler, he had dis- 


86 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

played more honesty in his principles; but that was just 
the difference between them; my father, whose memory 
I cherished just as dearly, had never failed to make 
amends, if he had been rude and severe; he often did so, 
when he was convinced he*" was in the right; he held his 
own opinions, but he did not wish to injure others, if it 
could be avoided. Hermann, on the contrary, unmerci- 
fully sacrificed everyone to that pride which his station 
justified , and trampled pitilessly upon his victims. Were 
these victims worthy of anything better? Thus questioned 
my mother after the separation from her son, and she 
frequently talked to me on the subject. 

I loved my father; but I knew too little about his faults 
to judge him. I could have loved my brother had he 
not always stifled my feelings. I feared him, and liked 
him better at a distance; a certain anxiety crept over me, 
when I thought that he would break in upon our cosy 
domesticity — like an icy whirlwind. 

He felt no brotherly love for me; he had no sympa- 
thetic feelings; and that affection which unites families 
so closely, he called “ foolish sentimentality.” 

♦ * 

In the meantime the court had returned; the saloons 
of the aristocracy were again opened. 

Marquis de Chevreux had grown melancholy. When 
we were at the sea-side, he had paid us a visit, and had 
taken the opportunity to declare his love for me confi- 
dentially to my mother, and to ask her what he had to 
expect. 

The answer was given very carefully. 

Chevreux was inconsolable. 

Lieutenant von Langenbach probably heard of this 
through Chevreux’s own thoughtlessness. When we re- 
turned to the Residence, everyone knew of it, and 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 87 

Langenbach related derisively how the poor Marshal, 
driven to despair, had sought death in a bath of costly 
essences, from which he had been rescued by some 
person unknown. 

Langenbach very likely counted on more hope for 
himself. His manner, when he called upon us, was 
more assured and conscious. 

I read in his eyes something like confidence, yes tri- 
umph even, and his actions led me to believe that he 
was only awaiting my brother’s arrival, to be quite sure 
of me. 

Fear was the right word. Lieutenant von Langenbach 
inspired me with fear! His eyes seemed ever watchful; 
sincerity was not in him; nothing good or noble could 
exist in his heart, and it was surely not prejudice to con- 
sider him a cold, calculating, selfish person, who, fasci- 
nated by his gift of conversation, by his social powers, 
speculated upon them to make his fortune. 

It was absurd of him to take me for the object of those 
speculations, and it gave me no high opinion of his 
cleverness, for at the Residence there was no lack of 
wealthy girls, who would gladly have given their hands 
to such an elegant and popular officer. 

Indeed there were many who raved about him, and 
many hoped with throbbing hearts that he would pro- 
pose to them, if it pleased his fancy to select certain 
ones at a ball, or to repeatedly call upon them. 

Many had felt highly insulted if he suddenly neglected 
them in order to pay attention to another; but they 
•would smile upon him just the same if he again took a 
fancy to notice them, perhaps because their toilette upon 
a certain evening especially pleased him, or because he 
wanted to make someone else jealous, or because he 
wished to do so without any reason. 


88 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

His triumphs were much too easy on account of the 
susceptibility of our young girls. Therefore I deter- 
mined to prove an exception, and to show him how little 
value I set upon his attentions. 

Indeed it annoyed me to receive the homage which he 
had paid to so many others; and I used every oppor- 
tunity in order to escape it, as he had seemed bent, since 
the beginning of the season, upon selecting me as his 
special divinity. 

One of the first court-fetes was to be the celebration 
of Princess Henrietta’s birthday. 

There was to be an address, and afterward a farce was 
to be given upon an unprovised stage in the palace. 

The queen herself had undertaken the distribution of 
the characters. 

Lieutenant von Langenbach was to be the manager, 
and also to play a part. 

To my annoyance, I learnt through Langenbach that 
the queen had assigned to me the part of leading lady, 
because the previous winter I had distinguished myself 
as an amateur! To Eugenie’s theatrical gift, and to her 
love of elocution, did I probably owe the awakening of 
my very unimportant talent. 

To my annoyance, said I, for I learnt at the same time 
that Baron von Radom, who had returned to his post 
several weeks before, was to be my lover. 

I was to be thrown, not only at the representation, but at 
all the rehearsals, with him, who, had it not been ungentle- 
manly, would always have turned his back upon me. 

How came the queen to make such a choice! 

Langenbach seemed much pleased with the arrange- 
ment. He praised Radom’s talent, only regretted that 
that part had not fallen to him, while I was convinced 
that he only said so to mislead me. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 89 

I did not have to consider long to find out that the 
arrangement of affairs was not unknown to Langenbach. 
For his own interests he had advised the queen to give 
the part of lover to Baron von Radom, because he knew 
that the latter did not care forme, and it would otherwise 
have fallen to one of his comrades, who was trying to cut 
him out, and whose courtesy I gladly accepted if it freed 
me from Langenbach’s marked attentions. 

In vain I sought for a pretext to enable me to withdraw 
from the farce; I dared not vex the queen. But great 
was my chagrin when I read the manuscript, and found 
that I had to say things to my lover, which I should never 
be able to utter to his face; that I should have to give him 
a long, loving glance, and allow him to kiss my hand 
twice! 

But that was not all! I should have to describe the 
success of my love to a friend, and confess to her that 
this man was the ideal of my maiden dreams! 

Never! I threw down the book indignantly, and sprang 
up. Had it not been written by a popular comedy-writer, 
I should have looked upon it as a satire upon myself! 
What would Radom think, if, when standing behind the 
scenes, he heard me utter such nonsense! 

Just that comforted me. He, yes all, who knew that 
Radom had scarcely noticed me, that he only had not 
admired me — would discover the irony, and understand 
how it was that I could say such things upon the stage, 
about this man especially, with so little embarrass- 
ment. 

And again; I could introduce into my voice and manner 
that which would emphasize the irony: I could uninten- 
tionally take my reveoge for Radom’s indifference; and 
though it might annoy him to be obliged to say sweet 
things to me and kiss my hand twice, it was not likely 


90 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


that he, as a gentleman, would betray anything in his 
speech or acting, which would sound like sarcasm. 

And if he should do so ? . . . 

Impossible! He could not anger the queen, who had 
given him this role, and what I, as a lady, could within 
certain limits do, he did not dare. 

What if he should refuse to act? That was not at all 
probable, unless chance should present a sufficient excuse 
to justify his refusing. 

I decided to undertake my part. I would create a 
furor; no one should know that I wished to humiliate 
Radom, but himself. 

Langenbach had unconsciously given me the oppor- 
tunity for a glorious revenge. I had not seen Radom 
since the preceding winter, should meet him for the first 
time at rehearsal, and for this meeting I should equip 
myself with all my presence of mind. 

I eagerly began to study my role, in order to know it 
well, and through it to govern myself. Poor Marie had 
daily to play the prompter, until I had impressed every 
word upon my memory; I went to the first rehearsal with- 
out knowing if Radom would take part, for I did not 
wish to ask about it beforehand. 


CHAPTER XI. 

Not without a purpose did I arrive later than the 
others in the drawing-room of the royal palace, in which 
we were to rehearse. 

They were awaiting me impatiently. 

I glanced carelessly at those present, who were stand- 
ing about in groups. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 91 

Radom, standing alone at one of the windows, was 
gazing absently at a fresco. He seemed paler than 
usual, that is, as far as I, who had never noticed him 
very much, could tell! 

Perhaps I only thought so, because I wanted to. 

They met me with reproaches, they declared they had 
forgotten their parts, which they had studied so hard 
that morning. 

Langenbach forthwith assumed his managerial air, 
said there was no time to be lost, that we should begin 
at once. 

Radom stepped into the saloon and made me a very 
respectful, but distant, bow. 

The first rehearsal was a failure, much to Lieutenant 
von Langenbach’s despair. The other ladies had learnt 
nothing, I alone knew my part. Radom was very distant; 
he pleaded a headache, busied himself with the manu- 
script in his hand, avoided looking at me, and read those 
parts of the dialogue, for which I had especially pre- 
pared myself, dryly, without expression, and so indif- 
ferently that the entire point of the piece was lost. 
Langenbach had not wanted any books used even at the 
first rehearsal, and reproved Radom several times, of 
which he took no notice. 

I guessed Radom’s object. 

He wished the others to become used to those pas- 
sages, so that the difference between them and his usual 
manner toward me should not strike them. 

He wisely calculated that otherwise these people 
would prepare the audience for a surprise on the fete 
night. 

During rehearsal 1 could not help examining Radom’s 
person more attentively than I had ever done before. 
His countenance, his features were refined and aristo- 


92 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


cratic, combined with something which made them 
sympathetic, so much so that they conquered even my 
dislike, which he so richly deserved. 

His dark-gray, sensitive eyes flashed brightly, even 
when his features were in repose; about his mouth 
hovered an expression which made one feel that nothing 
insipid or common-place could pass those lips. 

He was paler than the other gentlemen, but his pale- 
ness betrayed the highest mental activity, and his move- 
ments, his bearing corresponded with the laws of the 
beautiful. 

I could not be angry with this man, yet I desired to 
be, ought to be! Perhaps once I made a silly, childish 
mistake, when I, as he was obliged to pay me some 
attention, put on a supercilious air, which frightened 
even myself, and which I had often criticised in others. 

Radom noticed this, his features twitched slightly, but 
he collected himself and answered me with a gravely 
gallant gesture, whose meaning I understood and there- 
fore felt doubly. 

Radom did not vouchsafe me another glance, and it 
seemed to me as if the composure, which he exhibited, 
was unnatural. I was convinced of it, as, after rehear- 
sal, I received Langenbach’s compliments, and walked 
up and down the room talking merrily, his eyes rested 
long and fixedly upon me, and he shrank back as I 
looked in his direction. 

At home I laughed at the imprudent diplomatist, who 
had laid aside his mask, when he thought he was 
unnoticed. But I soon grew grave, as it was my custom 
to be. At the same time I felt very much disturbed and 
nervous. Only when I had seen my mother and Marie, 
told them about the rehearsal, and again sought the 
solitude of my chamber, did I gain my usual composure. 


tHE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 93 

and then it seemed to me that it was a pity that just this 
man should act so strangely toward me. 

I could have been friendly with him, for I liked every- 
thing about him, even his unfriendliness; and I now dis- 
covered for the first time, what had so strangely affected 
me during rehearsal — it was Radom’s voice, which 
touched the heart. 

“ It is incomprehensible what power the voice of an- 
other can exercise over us! ” said I to myself. “It was 
only his voice which kept me from treating him proudly 
and scornfully. Surely it was his voice, for it is only inci- 
dental that he bears such a striking resemblance to the 
young man whom I met in that little town! I was cer- 
tain long ago that it was silly for me to carry about that 
young man’s image as my ideal. Radom would please 
any girl, but that I did not dislike him as he deserved 
to be.” 

Was it worth my while to think of him ? A girl of my 
age detests every man who is purposely indifferent to 
her. Radom’s offence against me consisted in this — 
that he did not hide his indifference from the world, that 
he, for a man of sense and good taste, was so absurd as 
to consider the much-admired Countess von M., un- 
worthy of his notice. 

Perhaps to-day, when he was compelled to approach 
me, he had perceived his mistake; but it was too late, for 
my pride now forbade my paying any attention to him. 

The second rehearsal the next morning was indeed a 
trial both for him and for me. 

Radom again seemed cold, indifferent, perceptibly low- 
spirited. His eyes, which yesterday had been so bright, 
were weary. His greeting was constrained and awkward. 
He tried to avoid my gaze, while I did not consider him 
worth looking at. Yet I was far from being as composed 


94 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

as I pretended to be. I could not understand why the 
sight of this insulting man should disturb me so much. 
I could not breathe ; I felt as if my uncertainty must be 
noticeable. 

I felt not a spark of interest in him; what I felt was 
vexation at his presence, and still I mistrusted that this 
man was dearer to me than any other. 

A terrible situation! 

Forcibly I freed myself from these thoughts. I found 
an opportunity unobserved to draw a deep breath, and it 
seemed to me as if the coat-of-mail upon my bosom 
burst. My self-control returned, and, in order to make 
the others forget what they might possibly have noticed, 
I was very merry. 

Langenbach called us to order. As we took our posi^ 
tions in the first scene, I saw Radom cast a long, search- 
ing, mistrustful glance at me, and from that moment he 
was more lively and at ease. 

It seemed as if the spell had been broken. I went 
through the first scene with great sprightliness. Radom, 
who entered in the second, appeared to be infected by 
my mood; he entered into the spirit of his r61e. We 
both thought only of our task; we carried it through 
with such passion that several chamberlains who were 
present, loudly applauded. 

During that applause I received a shock like that from 
a stroke of lightning. 

Radom had, upon his exit, to kiss my hand. I paid no 
attention to it until, in the midst of the applause, I felt 
something hot upon my hand. It was as if I had come 
in contact with some glowing substance, and the glow 
mounted to my cheeks, to my brow. 

I had now to describe my love to the friend just en- 
tering. I was confused; forgot the cue. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 95 

Langenbach came to my rescue. Making use of a 
pause in which I was trying to recall my part, he turned 
to the audience and very politely begged that they would 
not interrupt the rehearsal again, for in such cases it was 
very difficult to remain master of one’s r61e. 

Radom must have noticed the effect of his boldness. 
If I had been grateful to Langenbach for assisting me 
in my confusion, he completely upset me, as he, vexed at 
the interruption, requested that we repeat the same scene, 
because it was so closely connected with the next. 

At a nod from him Radom stepped quickly forward. 
His face was flushed; I saw it without really looking at 
him; I felt it. Langenbach gave him the cue and he be- 
gan his part. His voice was agitated, and sounded so 
different from heretofore; so full of feeling, so warm, so 
tender. The words that the poet put in his mouth must 
come from his heart, for only the heart was capable of 
such expression. Unfortunately he had again to make 
professions which again suffused my face with blushes. 
It was now high time to save myself from the audience. 
I saw several of the gentlemen direct their opera-glasses 
toward me and whisper to one another. They must 
have noticed my agitation, and that made my heart beat 
loudly. 

The thought of being found out almost stopped the 
circulation. I felt my face change color. 

With the self-control of which in critical moments I 
was capable, I redoubled the passion of my acting. They 
should perceive my artistic emulation; I would not be 
surpassed by Radom. 

I succeeded in my purpose. But when Radom again 
took my hand, as he was about to press a kiss upon it, I 
purposely held it back, so that his lips might only brush 
it. At that his hand trembled and mine trembled in his. 


96 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

Radom, raising himself, ventured to look significantly in 
my eyes, and his were bright as he stepped to one side. 

The confession I had to make to my friend was a total 
failure. I was embarrassed. Laboriously I got to the end 
of it, and was glad when I could sink upon a sofa, put 
my handkerchief to my eyes, and tell one of the gentle- 
men who approached me anxiously that Lieutenant von 
Langenbach had asked too much of me; that my ambi- 
tion had exhausted my strength. 

What happened besides I scarcely know. I was very 
much unnerved. My heart, which would not be quieted, 
beat uneasily in my breast; I saw and heard Radom 
and the others declaim; I heard Lieutenant von Langen- 
bach correct them, and have passages repeated. I 
longed for home and solitude. 

The sight of Radom, his presence, made me tremble 
nervously. I was afraid of him. In that fatal scene 
which compelled me to lay my hand on Radom’s arm, 
once more to listen to his confessions of love, I was as a 
person who spoke and acted mechanically, and only 
when Langenbach complimented me, did I regain the 
composure to tell him that during rehearsal I had been 
taken ill, that — I did not know what I said to him, or 
what I said to the others, who overwhelmed me with 
flattery. 

Arrived in my room, I threw myself into a chair. I 
put both hands before my face and sobbed. 

What must ^he audience, what must Radom have 
thought of me! I had behaved foolishly, childishly! I 
could have died of mortification! I, who had always 
affirmed that I never felt anything but indifference for 
that man, for a man who in society had always treated 
me with the same, I— never would I play that role! I 
would be taken ill; some one else should take my place, 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 97 

and Radom should be made aware that he was mistaken 
if he really thought that I was the sport of his April 
mood! He should see that I was able to punish him for 
the impertinence with which he had dared to kiss my 
hand! 

If a change had taken place in him, even if he felt 
that he had done wrong in treating me so, he should not 
have employed such means to assure me of it. 

The next day I racked my brain to find an excuse for 
not only escaping the last rehearsal, but for dropping out 
of the whole affair. 

I would have to give my mother one, too, and I was 
not a good hand at inventing. 

In order not to anger those at court, my only way out 
was to plead illness at the time of the rehearsal, and to 
send word that I should be able to play the evening of 
the fete without rehearsing. 

In the night I started out of my sleep several times. 
I dreamt that a glowing coal was burning my hand. 
Another time, Radom stood before me and looked at me 
so reproachfully that I started back; when I awoke in 
the morning, I heard his voice so plainly that I looked 
about me wildly and uttered a cry. 

Without seeking an excuse, I was in no condition that 
morning to go to the palace. 

That forenoon I was very restless; I wandered from 
one room to the other. I was doubly unhappy, for 
Marie had had one of her attacks, and I was obliged to 
take her to her room. 

The next evening the fete at the prince’s palace took 
place. A ball was to follow the representation, which 
passed off to the satisfaction of every one. 

I was quite myself. 

Radom’s manner toward me was faultless. I under- 
7 


98 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

Stood that he wished me to forget that he had not always 
been attentive to me, yet occasionally he was constrained, 
at times he was absent-minded and hid it with diffi- 
culty. 

His behavior, although I could find no fault with it, 
was incomprehensible to me. He was evidently strug- 
gling with some feeling which would often gain the 
mastery over him, and was only kept down by his strong 
will. 

What was it ? 

Had he provoked me yesterday, and amended it ty 
his conduct; he now aroused my curiosity. IJe was 
paler to-day than ever; he was certainly not happy, that 
made him crotchety and uneven in his temperament. 

But why until now had he vented his temper upon me? 

One thing I saw, and that reconciled me to him, he 
felt the necessity of apologizing, if not in words, at least 
in actions. If yesterday he had forgotten himself, to- 
day he- was most polite, and that sufficed to blot out his 
error. 

Why had he allowed himself to be carried away ? 

I had promised Langenbach the first dance. He en- 
tertained me du'ring the pauses with the representation 
and the king’s desire to have the farce repeated in a few 
days, when he expected visitors. Unfortunately Radom 
could not help us, as he had planned a trip of several 
weeks. 

Langenbach noticed that I was astonished at that an- 
nouncement. 

It had indeed surprised me painfully, and that increased 
my discomposure.^ Langenbach, who had made a new 
discovery which vexed him, s.eemed to wish for revenge. 

“ They said,” he continued, “that Radom’s request to 
be transferred to another embassy would be granted. It 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 99 

was a pity that the Residence should lose such an agree- 
able man.” 

Langenbach had made a mistake in his calculations, 
and was evidently pleased. I received the communica- 
tion very indifferently, but was inwardly indignant at the 
lieutenant’s presumptuous manner, and made up my mind 
to keep him at a distance. 

Twice in the course of the evening I was thrown in 
contact with Radom. Much to my astonishment to- 
ward the close of the ball, during a quadrille which I 
danced with him, our conversation assumed a shade of 
familiarity. 

I forgot that I ought to be angry with him, and he 
seemed to have entirely forgotten that this was the first 
ball at which he had approached me. 

I knew that this was the first time Radom had danced 
that night. People were undoubtedly watching us, and 
that knowledge awoke in both of us the necessity of 
acting as if we had always been friends. 

^ ^ * 

Some business relating to my mother’s property gave 
Radom occasion to visit our house. 

My mother received him very kindly. It only required 
half an hour’s conversation in order to entirely win her 
over. She reproached him for having avoided us. 
Radom’s face darkened, but he made some excuse. He 
took advantage of her invitation, and came frequently. 
When Langenbach and he met one day, the former’s 
face changed color, and he soon took his leave. 

Langenbach had brought us the news that Hermann 
would arrive in the course of a few days. 

This intelligence occasioned my mother much pleasure, 
still she felt hurt that she had not known it first. Radom 
was very glum. When my mother asked him if he had 


100 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

ever met .her son in Paris, where he had been upon his 
last mission, he said “ no,” in a very peculiar tone. 

I took occasion to ask him, when we were alone, if he 
had really not met him. He confessed, with some 
embarrassment, that he had seen him several times in 
Paris, but had not become acquainted with him. 

Radom’s strange manner, whenever Hermann was 
mentioned, made me thoughtful. But I forgot it in the 
feeling that Langenbach had heard of Radom’s frequent 
visits to our house, and was piqued. It had become a 
necessity for me to see Radom; it did me good; the soi^nd 
of his voice filled me with happiness; and his bright, 
kindly eyes, which beamed with intelligence and nobility, 
spoke a language to me at times which I should not have 
understood, but which I was powerless to spurn. ‘‘ I 
believe he loves you, Paula! ” said my mother once, with 
a smile. 

My heart glowed, and the color flew to my face. I had 
to turn away so as not to betray myself, for I had long 
before discovered what my mother had only now found out. 

“Consider well, Paula! ” continued my mother; “Ra- 
dom is said to be poor! They say he was adopted by a 
wealthy uncle, but that the heirs took the best part of the 
fortune from him, after his uncle’s death.” 

“ And if he were poor? ” asked I, apparently indifferent. 
“But I think you are mistaken, mother! ” 

She did not reply; she seemed to give extraordinary 
thought to this matter; 1 saw her, as she gazed before her, 
slowly shake her head, as if she wished she were mistaken. 
This wounded me for his sake. 

“Leaving your error out of the question entirely, 
mother,” said I, very calmly, “ Radom is the most agreeable, 
intelligent, and interesting gentleman of our acquaintance; 
just look at our Marquis de Chevreux, that chemical 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


101 


laboratory, that walking hand-book of conversation, from 
which he has learnt pages by heart. Or Lieutenant von 
Langenbach, a dissolute person who is up to his ears in 
debt, and knows the dowry of every young lady in town 
to a kreutzer, in order to satisfy his creditors. Look at 
all the others, who repeat to me the same senseless 
phrases, so that I always know with what the one or the 
other will entertain me. Radom, who, without any doubt, 
has a brilliant diplomatic career before him, you call poor; 
he, who is a Croesus compared to the others who trade 
on their uniforms! What is a man’s poverty to me, if his 
mind is rich? ” 

“ How long is it, Paula, that you spoke differently of 
Radom, whom I very much like! You called him arrogant 
and impolite; you complained of his contempt.” 

“I certainly did so, mother! I did not know him, and 
he did not wish to be known. I do not even now know 
why he acted so toward us, and delicacy has prevented 
my asking him the reason.” 

My mother changed the subject, and spoke of Her- 
mann’s visit. 1 could see that she was counting the hours; 
she was forming plans; she saw herself by the side of her 
handsome son, whom every one would admire. At the 
joy of again seeing him, her maternal heart had forgotten 
how often he had wounded her. 


CHAPTER XH. 

Hermann had arrived, and taken up his abode at the 
finest hotel in the Residence. 

He had quite a household; an Intendant, a courier, 
several servants, grooms, horses, and carriages, and had 
engaged the first etage of the hotel. 


102 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

He visited us quite ceremoniously. He kissed my 
mother’s hand, pressed a kiss* upon my forehead, and 
took very little notice of the delight of his mother, who 
could not look at him enough; whose eyes beamed with 
pride and admiration. 

While my mother, once so calm and self-possessed, gave 
herself up to a state of intoxication, of rapture, which 
was indescribable; as she looked at him continually, I 
discovered what had latterly cast a shadow over her 
spirits, what had given to her illness a still sadder character. * 

She had missed her son; she secretly reproached her- 
self for leaving him, and with every month her longing 
for him increased. Her son was wanting, and I, her 
daughter, no matter how dearly she might love me, 
could never fill the void in her heart. 

It pleased me to see my mother so cheerful. 

I tried to ascribe Hermann’s coldness to his disposi- 
tion; I told myself that a man like him — a man of the 
world — could not possibly remain attached to his family; 
that in his intercourse with the gay world, he must change. 
But while my mother listened to his words with delight, 
I could distinguish the old unkindness, and when I 
chanced to ask some question which came from the nar- 
row world of a girl’s heart, he answered with a superiority 
which actually surprised me. Not a kind, affectionate 
word did he have for me, his sister ! 

As it was forenoon, Hermann remained to deje^ner 
with us, with the promise that he should not see us again 
for several days, as he had innumerable calls to pay. 

This brought a cloud to my mother’s brow, but she 
understood the demands which society made upon her 
son, and that she must become accustomed to sharing 
him with the same. 

During breakfast, Hermann entertained us so well, that 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 103 

I could have become completely reconciled to him, yes, 
even have loved him dearly, had he always been so. He 
spoke well, though mostly of himself and his high-toned 
friends. 

The conversation turned upon the society at the Resi- 
dence in which Hermann intended to spend the entire 
season. He seemed prepossessed in favor of Langen- 
bach, to whom he owed many pleasant hours. 

When my mother asked him if he had made the 
acquaintance in Paris of a Baron von Radom, he 
answered in the negative, but added that he believed he 
had heard the name, and perhaps had even seen the 
person, but that was all. 

This answer disturbed me. 

I already loved Radom, more than I liked to confess 
even to myself. I had often tried to find out why he had 
avoided me, why he had treated me so indifferently. His 
manner had convinced me that he was struggling with all 
his might to suppress something which was driving him 
from me. The only thing that I could put it down to 
was an aversion to my brother, some unpleasantness 
which Hermann might so easily have caused. 

I had not had the courage to ask Radom about it. I 
now heard from Hermann’s lips that he did not even 
know Radom, and Hermann was truthful, for in his over- 
bearing pride, he did not think that he need dissemble. 
Here was a secret which I felt obliged to fathom for the 
sake of my peace of mind. 

How truly had I judged my brother ! 

His appearance at the Residence created a sensation; 
he was spoken of with enthusiasm; the world made much 
of him, for since the young Prince * * * j^^d been 

completely ruined, and had disappeared, as a natural 
consequence, without his friends awarding him more than 


104 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

a shrug of the shoulders, since then there had been lack- 
ing the focus for those who felt the need of squandering 
another’s wealth. 

The ladies began to rave over him. Hermann’s 
appearance had the effect of electricity upon them; but 
to their amazement, it was soon reported that Hermann 
was paying attention to Baroness Stephanie von Ebers- 
burg, whom he had met in Paris. 

Many were thunder-struck, especially those who were 
bent upon fascinating him; however they consoled t^hem- 
selves with thinking that young Count von M. was 
only flirting with that coquette, and that they could fight 
with the same weapons. 

Lieutenant von Langenbach seemed proud to con- 
sider himself my brother’s intimate friend. 

He took it upon himself to introduce him to society, 
or rather to' introduce society to him. Langenbach, as 
far as his duty to his prince would permit, never left my 
brother’s side, and the prince finally, out of considera- 
tion for my brother, released him from his service for 
several weeks. 

Langenbach never tired of relating about the furore 
Hermann had created in Paris; of his horse-racing, his 
fortune and ill-luck in gaming, of his fabulous successes 
with the Parisian ladies, and all met him half way in ad- 
miring the chic of Hermann’s court-state, his equip- 
ages, his servants, etc., and in telling of the princes’ 
carriages which stopped at his door. 

My mother and I, of course, were not included in the 
bachelorship which Hermann led. 

We only heard occasionally through others the most 
astonishing things, which proved that Hermann, with 
regard to hospitality, was following in his father’s foot- 
steps. The gallants of the town, the whole corps of 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 105 

officers, were his guests, and the heralds of his munifi- 
cence. Only one seemed to avoid Hermann’s soirees and 
fetes, and that one was Radom. 

He had met Hermann at one of the prince’s evening 
parties. Hermann had called upon him and left his card. 

Radom had not returned the courtesy, so Langenbach 
told us, contemptuously, in order to convince us of Ra- 
dom’s want of civility. 

Incomprehensible! If Radom did not like my brother, 
which was not at all strange to me, why was he not at 
least civil, for my sake, for though neither of us had ut- 
tered a word of love, we had each divined the other’s 
feelings. I loved Radom. I knew that he returned my 
love, but we had never spoken of it, and I had not dared 
to ask him the cause of his former conduct toward me. 

There must have been something between him and 
Hermann, which probably Hermann wished to forget, 
but which Radom treasured up. But that Radom should 
be so implacable, that for my sake he did not conquer 
his dislike, I could not understand. 

My mother was very much annoyed at what Langen- 
bach told us. She felt that Radom had insulted her, 
through her son. Her pride could not comprehend how 
it was that a man like Otto von Radom, a simple young 
secretary of the legation, should not value such an honor; 
how a man of his education could so defy the laws of 
society. Langenbach’s words, as he had slyly calculated, 
fell upon good soil. 

Radom’s visits had, since Hermann’s arrival, grown 
fewer and more ceremonious. My mother, however, sup- 
pressed her displeasure at his treatment of her son, be- 
cause Radom attended so assiduously to some matters of 
business for her. 

I often met him at the reading circle, which met in the 


106 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

evenings, with Princess Henrietta, and which, as he as- 
sured me, would have bored him terribly, and from which 
he would have made some pretext to escape had he not 
been certain of seeing me there. 

Upon such occasions I often had an opportunity of 
speaking with him unobserved. I reproached him for 
purposely insulting my brother. 

He turned pale. It cost him an effort to reply. I saw 
that he did not wish to tell me an untruth. I perceived 
that some secret motive forced him to act so, and again 
he struggled for that mastery over himself which I had 
often noticed before. 

This secret made me uneasy, and whispered me to flee 
from this man, but it was not in my power to do so. We 
loved one another without having said so. I felt that 
my fate was linked with his’, and now he had insulted my 
brother, and through him my mother, upon whom the 
former had such influence, and all without telling me 
the reason! 

I tried to be angry with him when he evaded my ques- 
tion, but my desire was vain when I met his gaze, so 
beseeching, so despairing, while his hand involuntarily 
sought his heart, as if to still the pain there. 

Notwithstanding, I would force him to answer! But 
how? Could I demand that he be candid with me for 
our love’s sake? Love had never been mentioned 
between us. 

Radom knew that and sought safety behind it. I was 
just seeking a possible way of bringing him to an avowal, 
when a lady stepped up to us, and we were obliged to 
change the subject. 

During the remainder of the evening, I read the 
prayer for pardon in his e5^es. Even when he uttered the 
most indifferent words, his voice trembled slightly. 


TUE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 107 

Something troubled him — that miserable ‘^something,” 
no doubt, which I could not unravel. If he had only- 
spoken one word of love to me, I could have used it to 
obtain an explanation from him. I could then have 
shown him how preposterous it was to love me, to count 
upon winning me, and, at the same time, to insult my 
relatives. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

On my arrival home that evening, I found a letter in 
my room. 

The writing on the envelope was unknown to me, and 
so busy was I with my thoughts, that absently and almost 
unconsciously, I tore it open and looked at the letter. 

It was — Eugenie’s hand-writing, and there was her 
signature! 

I trembled as I read the heading: “ Highly honored, 
beloved countess!” I suspected nothing good. Eugenie 
in a few lines informed me that she had arrived a week 
ago, a fugitive and ill. She implored me to honor her 
with a visit, for she did not dare to enter our house; that 
she was, in any case, too weak to leave the hospital to 
which she had been admitted. 

“ A fugitive and ill!” cried I, deeply moved. ‘‘Poor 
creature! Yes, I will go to her! She needs help; I will 
not forsake her in her misfortune! My mother must 
know nothing yet of her being here. I will first learn 
what brings her!” 

It was painful to me to know that she was near me. I 
also felt in duty bound to make amends for the wrongs 
of others, though she might have been to blame in a 
great measure herself. 


108 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

As 1 said, my mother should know nothing of this 
letter, for she had very little patience with her own sex, 
and I must first see the unhappy girl, in order to decide 
how much to tell her. 

The next morning was gray and foggy, but I expressed 
a desire to visit the hospital which, as luck would have 
it, was quite near us. My mother was never visible 
until toward noon, so I asked Marie, if she should 
inquire for me, to tell her that I had driven to town to 
make some purchases. Christmas, which was approach- 
ing, allowed of some secrets from my mother. 

I had an unpleasant walk. The fog had turned into 
a heavy rain, which drenched me before I obtained a 
cab. They must not recognize me in that institution; 
and I protected myself against recognition by drawing 
the hood of my mackintosh over my head. 

With a beating heart, I drove into the hospital court 
and asked the porter in which wing of the building I 
should find the number Eugenie had given me. 

The porter, who naturally was not inspired with any 
great respect for a visitor to this refuge for the unfort- 
unate, blew a suffocating whiff from his pipe into my 
face, and pointed silently to the right. Crossing the dirty 
court-yard, I came to some steep, worn, wooden steps. 

I mounted them with difficulty. A disagreeable, 
heavy atmosphere met me in the long corridor. The 
enormous locks on the doors on both sides of the hall 
reminded me more of a prison than of a charitable insti- 
tution. I was horrified at the thought of any one find- 
ing convalescence here. 

I met several old women with misanthropical faces, 
who looked at me questioningly. I ventured to address 
a few words to one of them. 

She pointed silently to the end of the corridor. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 109 

Here they seemed to spare all useless conversation. 
So I continued my miserable walk, and finally stood 
before a door, upon which the number “35 ” was written 
in chalk. 

It took some seconds to regain my breath. 

I knocked softly and timidly. A feeble voice answered. 
It was Eugenie’s; I recognized it, although it had 
changed. 

Then Eugenie lay at my feet. 

Clinging to my knees, hiding her face, she broke into 
loud sobs, which I could not silence. Her whole body 
was convulsed; my heart ached and my eyes were filled 
with tears as I looked down upon the unfortunate girl. 

“Eugenie, I pray you, compose yourself! Forbear, 
for you are ill!” 

For a long time I spoke in vain. Sobs choked her 
voice, and she clung more convulsively about my knees. 

“You will compel me to leave you, Eugenie! You 
know I can not bear tears!” cried I, at last, gravely, and 
then only did she try to stifle her sobs. 

Her arms dropped. She was upon her knees, her hands 
folded, looking at the floor, as if she did not dare to 
show her face. 

I stepped back and then first saw the change in her. 
Pain and care had made her ten years older, and left 
deep furrows on her once fresh face. Her eyes were 
sunken, and had deep, black circles around them, and 
when, her hands folded, she raised those eyes beseech- 
ingly to me, as if praying for pardon, I was startled at 
her appearance. 

“ Eugenie, for Fleaven’s sake what has happened to 
you?” cried I, seizing her wasted hands, of whose shape 
and whiteness she had once been so proud, and raising 
her. “You tremble! You are suffering!” 


110 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. ' 

I cast a disconsolate glance at her surroundings, a 
wretchedly hard bed, a table, a chair, and an earthen 
bowl. 

Eugenie nodded silently and shook back the locks 
which had fallen on her brow. I saw then how sunken 
her temples were, and saw also a small, red scar. 

With gentle sympathy I took her hand, led her t^ the 
bed, and forced her to seat herself on the edge of it, 
while I seated myself opposite her on the chair. 

“ Eugenie,” began I, as her eyes still sought the floor, 
“ I have come to be useful, to help you, if I can. Let 
us leave the past behind us; speak to me as a friend. 
Has the doctor seen you to-day?” 

Eugenie answered in the negative. 

But do you not feel very ill?” 

“ Yes,” she breathed; “ but it will pass off.” 

Scarcely had she spoken, when she was seized with a 
chill. 

“With God’s help you will soon recover, Eugenie,” 
said I to her consolingly. “ You shall want for nothing. 
You shall leave this miserable place; it will not be diffi- 
cult to find another shelter for you. Trust in me, Eugenie, 
as you always did. If I can serve you in any way, tell 
me so. My money is at your service; I will ” 

Eugenie reached for a well-filled purse which lay next 
her on the bed, and put it in her lap to show me that she 
was not without money. 

“Yesterday, ill as I was, I sold the trinkets which the 
gracious countess gave me,” she said. 

“Then you were in town yesterday?” 

“ I was obliged to go. Immediately upon my arrival 
I sought out a woman whom I had formerly known, in 
order to give my child into her care ” 

“Your — child?” 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. Ill 

“You have probably heard, gracious countess,” she 
continued, with some bitterness, “that I — am mar- 
ried; that I was forced to marry Schoolmaster Mittler.” 

“ I heard of it. It was your own fault, Eugenie ” 

“Yes, I am to blame for my misery,” she interrupted. 
“ When I left you, or rather had to leave you, I was 
almost beside myself. I was like the rabbit which is 
obliged to run into the monster’s mouth. 

“ I do not dare to blame others, who are nearly related 
to you; but I blame myself for not having the courage, 
guilty as I was, to cling to the bottom of the lake when 
they drew me out. My place was there, for I was lost. 
What happened afterward was madness, for I did not 
regain consciousness. I rushed blindly into the world 
and suddenly found myself again at the castle. I knew 
that they would treat me contemptuously there, but I 
scorned myself, and when I was married to that boy, I 
considered it my just punishment. When that took place 
I came to myself. There were again hours, days in 
which I could think calmly, if not quite clearly. I de- 
termined to live within myself, in solitude; soulless, 
thoughtless, a machine, which moves until it can go no 
more. I took no more interest in anything, and the 
world about me concerned me not. Weeks passed thus; 
then I was awakened from my apathy. At first I heard 
harsh words, then I felt a hand upon me, which touched 
me roughly, ill-treated me. This hand belonged to the 
man whom I knew had a right to me as to a slave, from 
whom I did not expect anything else than to be treated 
as such. He overwhelmed me with oaths, knocked me 
about, and beat me.” 

Eugenie pointed to a scar upon her forehead. 

“ I suffered all this without murmuring a long, long 
time. One day I heard him say that he had a much bet- 


112 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

ter position in view. After that he put me and the child 
out of the house on to the street 

‘‘ Then only,” continued Eugenie, after drawing a deep 
breath, I awoke, as if I had lain for some time in a 
terrible dream. I felt as if I were awakening, as if my 
natural activity were returning, as if the fear of this man 
had suddenly left me — this wolf in sheep’s clothing, who, 
from the moment when I, confused and unconscious, 
entered his house, had mistreated me. At the same time 
my thoughts flew to my situation and to the conviction 
of what I had become, with horror. For the first time, I 
wept; the tears poured from my eyes. I pressed my 
poor, innocent babe to my bosom, and rose from the 
stone upon which I had sunk. I looked about, undecided 
which direction to take. The feeling of fear and anx- 
iety returning, made me shiver. I flew through the 
fields until I reached the woods. There I hid in the 
underwood, so that he should not find me, for I had 
decided not to return. The cries of my poor child made 
me think of seeking another shelter, but it was already 
night. In the village they might have taken me for a 
vagrant. I had no warm clothing, for I had been turned 
out of doors as I was; my child was cold and fretful. 
For that reason I ventured into the vicinity of the village 
when it was quite dark, and sheltered under some straw. 
Early in the morning when I awoke I remembered that 
I had not a crown to buy food for myself and my child. 
Helplessly I entered the village. There fate threw into 
my way an old lady whom I knew. I told her my 
troubles; I intrusted my child to her. She was to pro- 
cure a lodging for it in the village with her daughter 
until I returned. 

“ I wanted to go back once more at an hour when I 
knew my tormentor would be at the parsonage, to 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 113 

enter the house, take my jewels and some money from 
the place in which I had secreted them, and then fly. 
I hoped to be able to earn enough by teaching my 
mother-tongue to save myself and my child from starva- 
tion. 

‘‘ So I came here, gracious countess, in the hope of 
perhaps obtaining a situation through your influence; for 
I knew that you, with your kind heart, would not be 
angry with me. I would not have done so, however, I 
confess, if, on the way, I had not been attacked by a 
fever, if, it had been possible to go any farther with my 
unhappy child. No, indeed, countess, I would not have 
dared to give you the least trouble,” she repeated, while 
tears coursed down her cheeks, “ and I will go away. I 
only longed to see you once again, that I could go on, 
and on I must go, as far as possible! Anguish, fear, will 
not let me remain, for yesterday, when I had sold my 
trinkets, I saw him upon the street who so cruelly caused 
my misfortune.” 

Sobs choked Eugenie’s voice. Pity for the girl’s 
misery filled my breast. I knew what she was capable of 
doing if despondency got the better of her. I also felt 
the necessity of making amends as far as I could for my 
brother’s ill-treatment of this girl, although she herself 
was to blame for the best part of it. 

I left her after obtaining a promise from her to com- 
pose herself, in order to hasten her convalescence. She 
told me to whom she had given her child. I then sent 
for the matron, commissioned her to take good care of 
the invalid, and when I reached the corridor, slipped a 
piece of money into her hand. My playmate’s fate 
affected me deeply. My mother must know nothing of 
her being here, for though she sympathized with the suf- 
ferings of others, she still considered Eugenie ungratc- 
8 


114 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

ful and frivolous, and thought she should be left to her 
fate. 

In addition to that, my mother was not at all likely to 
be angry with Hermann. The share that he had in the 
girl’s misery, she now saw in a milder light than formerly. 
I had even heard her once say she now saw that Eugenie 
was far more to blame for that incident at the castle than 
Hermann, and she thought that Hermann was right in 
saying that the girl must be kept in her place. Ambi- 
tion had encouraged her to try to please him, and this 
ambition had in all probability been caused by her edu- 
cation, which raised her above her proper station. 

It would have been difficult to make my mother change 
her opinion. If I had occasionally suspected that vanity 
had driven Eugenie to her ruin, the next morning I was 
convinced of her innocence when she told me her story 
with the greatest candor. 

Yes, she had admired Hermann; she still admired him, 
she informed me. Never in her childhood had she been 
capable of anger toward him when he wounded her, and 
even to-day she was not angry with him. Hermann, she 
swore by all that was holy, without our knowing or sus- 
pecting it, had vented his insolence upon her long before 
we left the castle; for in his eyes, probably just to defy 
his mother’s rights, she was not any better than one of 
the village servants, in fact was less than they, for she 
was a “common French hussy,” whom, as he told her, 
they could drive over the boundaries any day, and it 
should certainly be done if she complained of him. 

As Eugenie saw that even my mother feared Hermann, 
she was intimidated by his threats, and feeling herself 
defenseless, she looked upon the lake as her last resort. 

She told me that she was often on the point of seek- 
ing protection from me; at least of confiding in me, but 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 115 

through me my mother might have found it out. She 
might have taken Hermann to task. Hermann would 

have revenged himself upon her, and some day she 

looked upon the lake as her consolation and refuge. 

When my* mother’s unkindness forced her to leave us 
she was glad, although the parting from me was hard. 
Where she should turn she had not planned. All that 
was iii her mind was the lake. Undesignedly, scarcely 
conscious of it herself, she returned to the castle. All 
that she knew about it was that she intended to obtain 
from my mother’s housekeeper who was there, the dresses 
and other things which she had left with her on our de- 
parture. Eugenie admitted that this might have been an 
excuse with which she deceived herself; that more prob- 
ably a vague hope had led her there — a hope behind 
which lay the lake. 

When she spoke of her reappearance at the castle she 
hid her face. 

“ I wanted to leave,” said she, “ but it seemed as if my 
feet were fettered. I daily determined to seek death 
where I had once before sought it, for I saw and heard 
the castle servants ridicule me. When I had finally made 
up my mind, and had written a letter of farewell to you, 
dearest countess, in which I begged your forgiveness, I 
found myself a prisoner — I could not escape my fate, and 
was sacrificed to a coarse, ignorant man, by whose side I 
lived on, only clinging to life for my child’s sake. This 
man turned me out when he had a better position in 
prospect. I can not say,” concluded Eugenie, “ that I 
really suffered under his roof. Heaven sent me an insen- 
sibility, the result of the excess of my sufferings, which 
helped me to bear my fate, for to-day the whole affair 
seems like a terrible dream, in which only one thing is 
true, that my life, over the first epoch of which a favor- 


116 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


able star shone, is lost, lost forever! God forgive me my 
share of the guilt! I am homeless and unprotected; I 
feel that my strength is gone, my health undermined, and 
were it not for my child, I should thank Heaven to end 
the life which can only be friendless and miserable!” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

My joy was unbounded. I had succeeded! Radom, 
who had not been able to give me an explanation of the 
breach of etiquette he had committed against my brother, 
had, at my request, bridged over the gulf which existed- 
between him and Hermann. 

An occasion had presented itself, which he took advan- 
tage of. His unceasing endeavors had succeeded in sav- 
ing my mother’s threatened inheritance. She was highly 
delighted. She told Hermann that Radom had held back 
so long because he hoped, from day to day, to present 
himself to him as the warm champion of his family. 

Hermann received him graciously. He who was accus- 
tomed to flattery, took my mother’s prevarication for pure 
coin, Radom again visited us; indeed, he had the run of 
the house; notwithstanding which, he only met my brother 
when it was unavoidable; but their relations were pleasant. 

Alas ! this friendship was not of k)ng duration. Langen- 
bach, to whom Otto von Radom was a thorn in the flesh, 
prejudiced Hermann against him, and Langenbach was 
my brother’s oracle; he had become indispensable to him. 

Langenbach found only too easily a basis for his in- 
trigues; Hermann’s deep interest in Baroness Stephanie, 
which was very plain to every one, gave him a chance. 

This lady, a thorough coquette, beautiful, dangerously 
beajitiful, had always particularlyfavored Radom, although 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 117 

it was known that he only returned this distinction as far 
as politeness demanded. 

Several stories were told, according to which Radom 
had evaded the advances which Stephanie von Ebersburg 
made, with all sorts of excuses, without ridding himself 
of her. 

Radom did not like to speak of her, and usually tried 
to avoid any conversation about her. As I supposed, he 
too had met her in Paris, where she created quite a sen- 
sation by her beauty. 

Stephanie von Ebersburg and her mother had not suc- 
ceeded in obtaining admission to court, Langenbach, 
they said, was trying everything in his power to induce 
the queen to change her sentiments. 

Stephanie was reported to be very wealthy, to which 
report the elegance of her toilets testified. She was said 
to have several times refused gentlemen of high position. 
She made no secret of her passion for my brother, and 
he seemed entirely carried away with her, though he en- 
tertained such contempt for women generally; he paid 
her, so they said, the greatest attention, had eyes only 
for her, when he met her in society, and was unsuscep- 
tible to the admiration which was shown him on all sides. 

Stephanie was the cause of another disagreement 
between my mother and her son. She heard everywhere 
of his liking for Baroness Stephanie, especially from 
those mothers who hoped, or had hoped for their 
daughters, and were provoked at Stephanie. 

Hermann got the start of my mother. He asked to 
see the list of those whom she intended inviting to an 
evening party. 

He nought one name which was wanting. 

“ Why are not Baroness von Ebersburg and her 
daughter invited?” cried he. 


118 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

My mother explained to him that she had no cause to 
invite them. 

I wish it ! ” answered Hermann, shortly, and my 
mother was weak enough to yield, in the secret hope 
of their not accepting the invitation. 

Stephanie’s appearance at our house that evening 
astonished all. Even I, who, though admiring her 
beauty, entertained an aversion to her, was obliged to 
treat her courteously. My mother saw the surprise on 
her guests’ faces, but received the ladies most politely. 

When Radom spied them, he approached me. We 
had confessed our love a short while before. 

“ For God’s sake, Paula, how comes she here? ” cried 
he, in astonishment. 

“ At my brother’s request ! ” I whispered to him. 
“ Not another word, Otto! ” 

“ An insult ! you do not know who she is ! ” escaped 
from him in his agitation. 

I started, but quickly collected myself, for Langen- 
bach with his argus eye, had observed us, and came up 
to me. 

“ Do you not think Baroness von Ebersburg charm- 
ing, divine, countess ? ” asked he, knowing that I had 
always admired Stephanie’s beauty very disinterestedly. 
“If two crowns were allowable in a gathering, she 
would be awarded the second ! ” 

He accompanied his words by a look so familiar, that 
I should have considered him impertinent, had he not 
gained a right to this familiarity, as Hermann’s insepa- 
rable friend, so I could only protest inwardly. 

Radom bit his lips and left me to Langenbach and 
Stephanie’s mother, to whom the latter paid a similar 
compliment, when suddenly Stephanie, who had been 
conversing with the still sentimental Marquis de Chev- 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 119 

reux, joined us, her fine handkerchief held to her nose, 
and a roguish smile in her eyes. 

“ It seemed to me as if I were wandering in Sharon’s 
garden amidst the perfume of roses,” said she, merrily, at 
the same time glancing around to convince herself of 
the effect of her appearance, which, as a rule, was never 
behind her expectations. 

It is true, Stephanie was beautiful. The white satin 
dress, interwoven with golden threads, seemed chosen to 
show that her complexion, which vied with the snow, 
could stand the test; the flowers in her hair were chosen 
to bring out her complexion, and drooped lightly and 
gracefully upon her classically formed neck; while her 
abundant, golden hair was sprinkled with a scarcely 
pejxeptible glittering powder, which increased its luster 
in the bright glare of the gas. 

Stephanie’s dress was designed simply, with the cer- 
tain calculation of fascinating. 

The style and length of her robe disclosed the tip of 
her fairy-like foot; bosom and arms were seductively, but 
not offensively, d^collet^, and only a close observer 
could have discovered that artificial means had been 
employed upon her complexion, that the almond-shaped 
lids of her large, fiery eyes had been traced by a master- 
hand, and that the carmine upon her lips had been taken 
from a palette. 

Radom’s remark had had its effect upon me. 

It had escaped him against his will; with the admira- 
tion which I involuntarily paid this beauty, there was 
mingled a feeling of mistrust, which I tried to suppress. 

After the interchange of several polite phrases, I 
sought a pretext in order to free myself from Langenbach. 

I saw Marie near, who, in the capacity of companion, 
always joined our small companies. 


120 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

I beckoned to her. She started up, but on the way 
suddenly staggered, drew herself up with difficulty and 
left the room, unable to answer my call. 

I looked after her anxiously, but at that moment my 
attention was claimed by a captain, who was accompan- 
ied by a young man, and begged permission- to introduce 
Herr Carlsburg, his former comrade, who had arrived that 
morning, and for whom he had obtained an invitation. 

Carlsburg, he added, had several years ago deserted 
the king’s standard, had joined that of Mercury, and 
was now manager of a large bank at B. 

I was struck by the fresh and genial face of this young 
man, which I must have seen before, but just at that 
moment it was not clear to me where and when. 

A half hour passed before I found an opportunity to 
escape from my duties as hostess. 

I wished to know what had befallen Marie, whom I 
sought in vain. I inquired for her. No one had seen 
her. I hastened to my room, then to hers, and there 
saw her in her simple ball dress lying upon her bed, 
weeping. 

Bending over her, I asked what had happened. The 
spasms returned, and she could not speak; not a word 
could I get out of her, and of what avail would it have 
been? I could see in what a deplorable condition the 
unhappy girl was. 

I rang. I sent quickly for a doctor, and made her 
as easy as I knew how, and with an anxious heart 
I was compelled to return to the drawing-room, where 
probably, my mother had missed me; but I went back to 
the sick-room as soon as I could. 

The whole evening I was miserable; for the doctor 
looked serious. He said that only some great shock to 
her mind could have caused the trouble. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 121 

Even when toward midnight the convulsions were 
quieted, Marie would make no explanation; I had to 
divide *my attentions between her and the company, 
and could not see what was taking place amongst the 
latter. 

As finally toward 2 o’clock they dispersed, when I 
had again sought my friend and found her sound asleep, 
I told my mother about her condition. 

She was put out. Something must have happened that 
evening to sadden her. 

I was glad when I could seek my bed. 

Marie’s attack had deprived me of the pleasure of see- 
ing Otto, and of exchanging a few loving words with 
him; I, too, was depressed. 

Sleep had forsaken me. I was excited. My heart beat 
restlessly. I thought of Stephanie and Marie, although 
there was no connection between the two. I also tried 
to recall where I had met Herr Carlsburg, v/hom the 
ladies praised as a good conversationalist and dancer. 

Suddenly a light broke in upon me. One day when I 
was looking for Marie in her room, and she was at her 
mother’s, I had seen a photograph which Carlsburg 
resembled. 

I now had the clue to Marie’s secret. 

She had some love-trouble, had had it a long time. 
She had always told me when I questioned her that it 
was her mother’s condition which made her so sad. 

But now I knew all. Carlsburg — yes, he wore his uni- 
form in the picture, and therefore I did not recognize 
him at once — Carlsburg had once been an officer sta- 
tioned here; he had left the service and sought his fort- 
une in the business world. He loved Marie, or rather 
he had loved her; she — still loved him. There was not 
the slightest doubt of it. Marie had tottered just at the 


122 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

moment when the captain had brought his friend up to 
me, overcome by the sight of him. 

The ladies might consider that Carlsburg interesting 
as a companion and dancer; he now appeared to me in 
the light of an unscrupulous fellow, for he had evidently 
basely deserted poor Marie, that angel of gentleness and 
beauty; he now was so little concerned about her that he 
did not even know her fate; that he had not the faintest 
suspicion of finding her in our house. 

This was the second sad experience in our domestic 
relations. Eugenie, in the hospital, slowly convalescing, 
and now Marie in a probably worse condition. 

Worn out by the excitement of the preceding evening, 
very little refreshed by the short rest which I had 
obtained toward morning, I was in Marie’s room before 
daybreak. She was more composed, but the attack had 
greatly changed her. 

I was startled when I examined her by the dim light 
of the lamp. Marie seemed ashamed, she put both hands 
before her face so that I could not see it, then she 
grasped my hand, begged my pardon, and thanked me 
for my sympathy. 

I spent an hour with her and then left her, hoping that 
she would be able to sleep. I did not betray by a word 
that which chance had disclosed to me. 

My mother was very silent all the forenoon, and 
showed very little interest in Marie. 

When at noon Radom came to call, I was delighted to 
be able to receive him alone. He should tell me all that 
had happened at the soirde, for I had seen so little in my 
abstraction. 

Radom came to bring my mother some papers relating 
to her affairs and to obtain her signature. 

This furnished me with an excuse to detain him until 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 123 

my mother awoke, for she was taking a short nap. I 
seldom had an opportunity of speaking with him 
alone. 

He said that he had not taken note of what was pass- 
ing amongst the guests any more than I, for they did not 
interest him after I disappeared. 

I knew, however, that, as a diplomatist, he very reluct- 
antly spoke of the affair of others, and it cost me some 
trouble to find out what I had anticipated, namely — that 
Hermann had only eyes and ears for Stephanie von 
Ebersburg, and thereby had slighted all the other young 
ladies present. 

I asked him if he had seen Herr Carlsburg, and learned 
that he was paying attention to the banker’s daughter, who 
was neither young nor handsome, but upon whom, to all 
appearances, he had made an impression. 

Poor Marie! 

What would I not have given to throw them together, 
unforeseen by either, when he paid his promised visit! 
But I did not dare attempt it, for I had to consider Marie’s 
health, which had been ruined by this young man’s faith- 
lessness; even leaving that out of the question, she was in 
no condition to see him at present. 

The worst would be — when she should learn that that 
miserable man was courting the wealthy heiress — that his 
suit was favorably looked upon, as Radom had informed 
me. 

In vain I urged Radom to tell me what his hasty words 
regarding Stephanie had meant. 

He did not seem to like it. I explained to him that 
my question was not curiosity; that, on account of the 
attention which my brother was paying her, it was neces- 
sary that I should find out what he knew about her. His 
communication, which I drew from him in monosyllables, 


124 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

was of such a kind as to inspire me with abhorrence for 
the woman. 

Radom maintained — and what he said could always be 
relied upon — that she had been very closely connected 
with a certain personage at the Napoleonic court; the 
money for her expensive toilets she obtained from the 
sale of one of the estates near Paris, which perhaps, but 
that he only surmised, had been given her in recognition 
of her services as secret emissary. 

The improbability of this made me doubt the first part 
of his story. 

I told Radom that he was unjust. He averred that 
Stephanie did not stand alone in this peculiar mission, 
but added that of course he only suspected her; he had 
no positive proof. 

When Radom had taken his leave, I told my mother 
what I had heard from him. She then informed me that 
a similar story had reached her ears, and therein consisted 
her aversion to both of the Ebersburgs. She regretted 
having- yielded to Hermann’s wishes, and having invited 
them; and still more odious to her was the interest which 
her son so openly took in these ladies. 

The whole day she was depressed; she had decided, 
she told me, to break off all further intercourse with them 
“in spite of Hermann! ” 

My announcement regarding Marie she received coldly. 
She called it another “foolish liaison^ 

The young man, in his position as a poor officer, had 
probably had no intention of marrying her; Marie should 
have known that, and if now, in his present career, he 
sought money, it was pardonable. 

“ Is it also pardonable to break a poor, confiding girl’s 
heart? ” I cried out. 

“At any rate, it is nothing unusual! She should have 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 125 

been clever enough to renounce him, when she found that 
there was no hop^.*' " 

My mother had grown unfeeling, and showed it toward 
those who were beneath her. Therefore, my sympathy 
was increased for Marie, who, under my care, was recov- 
ering, or at least was more compos_ed if her strength did 
not return; and when Carlsburg, who still had no suspicion 
that the Marie whom he had deserted was in our house, 
called, I withdrew, not feeling able to receive such a dis- 
honorable person. 

One morning, some eight days later, Marie’s eyes were 
filled with tears of gladness. 

She told me, forgetting her own pain, that her father’s 
reputation, his honor, had been cleared. One of the 
former officials had acknowledged on his death-bed that 
he had appropriated that sum of money, and her father’s 
property, which had been confiscated by the crown, was 
to be at once restored to her mother. 

“ Now my poor mother will be freed from her cares, 
and the grief caused by my father’s supposed guilt will 
be removed from her breast!” cried she with beaming 
eyes. 

The next day the newspapers announced the engage- 
ment of Carlsburg and the wealthy banker’s daughter. 
I hid the paper from Marie. But she must have heard of 
it some other way, for from that day she was quiet 
and reserved, and even the sad smile with which she 
usually greeted me was gone. In addition to that she 
surprised me by expressing a wish to return to her 
mother, who, she said, needed her so much, and nothing 
could turn her from that purpose. 

I was obliged to give her up, but only on the condition 
that she would come to me as often as she possibly could. 
I had become very fond of that gentle, affectionate 


126 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


creature — there was something almost angelic about her, 
and I felt doubly for her in her trouble. . 

When Marie left me I felt deserted; I missed her every- 
where. I had become accustomed to having some one 
about me to whom I could tell my troubles and delights, 
for my mother was always busy within herself; she read 
a great deal, indulged in her own thoughts, and was often 
moody; and the weakness which often attacked her, 
made her so nervous that she could not bear the faintest 
sound. 

In order to amuse myself I tried to cultivate the friend- 
ship of several young ladies at the Residence, but did 
not .succeed. I could listen for a while to their senseless 
chatter, but it gave me no pleasure. 


CHAPTER XV. 

Radom had for some time taken the place of the ab- 
sent ambassador. He had been promised the position in 
the future. 

Our relations could no longer remain secret. I urged 
him to speak to my mother, and Otto was only awaiting 
the confirmation of his office, which he daily expected. 

A strangely uneasy feeling had taken possession of me 
without my being able to account for it. 

Everything went on as usual. Small assemblies at 
home and at our friends, the theater, and balls at court, 
as well as at private houses, made me forget the gloomy, 
wintry weather. 

Marquis de Chevreux had forgotten his rejection. He 
was very absent, but all said it was a result of the effect 
of all the essences and extracts upon his brain. The 
doctor himself had warned him, and to this warning was 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 12 ? 

it attributed that the atmosphere about him was more en- 
durable for others. " When he now approached it seemed 
to us as if the wind bore toward us the soft, delicious 
perfume of flowers. 

Langenbach had been promoted to the rank of cap- 
tain, and as he had some weeks before accompanied the 
prince to several foreign courts, he had received some 
new decorations, of which he was very proud. 

Hermann visited us seldom. He was lonesome during 
Langenbach’s absence, which proved to me how much he 
depended upon that designing officer, who was contin- 
ually preparing new amusements for him. As I heard 
from Radom, Hermann very generously settled Langen- 
bach’s debts, and this was probably the cause of the lat- 
ter’s unusually conscious manner. 

We were of course the last to hear of the frivolous peo- 
ple for whom Hermann prepared small fetes in his apart- 
ments, of the fine gifts he bestowed upon actresses and 
ballet girls. I recognized Langenbach as the author of 
all this, and therefore disliked him more than ever, espe- 
cially when he came to pay his respects to us, with a face 
upon which nights spent in excesses was plainly written. 

One morning, when a snow-storm was raging outside, 
covering the ground with a thick, white carpet, I was 
sitting in my mother’s room. 

She had a book in her hand which Radom had brought 
and recommended, while I was doing some fancy-work. 

My mother was delighted with her book, praised 
Radom’s refined taste, and returned to her reading. 

I went to the fire-place in order to poke the fire, 
although it was burning brightly. I wanted to take 
advantage of this opportunity to prepare my mother for 
Otto’s suit, and did not dare to turn my face toward 
her. 


128 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

Herr von Radom is certainly a man of noblest, most 
refined character, and the only one of our gentlemen in 
whom a girl could take an interest.” 

My heart beat as I spoke, and still more anxiously did 
I await the answer. 

‘‘ Oh, yes, Radom is a man who would take a well- 
bred girl’s fancy.” 

My mother said this after she had finished her sen- 
tence, without raising her eyes from her book. 

I was very much puzzled how to continue, for my 
mother had dropped the subject. 

Still I had to speak. Time was pressing, and so was 
my anxiety. 

While I was casting about for the right words, a voice 
in the street interrupted me. 

I looked out and saw my brother’s carriage stop before 
the door. Hermann sprang quickly out. 

When my brother last visited us I had had a small 
dispute with him; I was, therefore, undecided whether 
to leave the room or remain. 

In the meantime he entered and threw himself, accord- 
ing to his custom, into a chair, with a slight greeting. 

A side glance at him convinced me that he had some- 
thing extraordinary on his mind. I therefore started for 
the door, while my mother slowly put her book aside. 

“ Paula, why are you going?” cried Hermann. 

“So as not to witness your quarrels!” answered I, 
indifferently. 

“ But I have something to say which concerns you,” 
said he, examining his finger-tips. “ Mother knows 
something about it.” 

I looked at my mother, then at him, and returned to 
the stool at the fire-place. 

“ I am surprised that you trouble yourself about me.” 


THE GOLGOTHA 'OF THE HEART. 129 

*‘You will see that I do it more than you seem to 
think,” he continued. 

“ My brother has never given me occasion to think 
so.” Absently I poked the fire. Hermann seemed not 
to have heard my answer. 

“You must marry, Paula,” said he, without looking at 
me, “and that is certainly a subject which is highly 
interesting to a young girl.” 

My heart again beat violently. I glanced anxiously at 
my mother, who was looking out of the window at the 
snow which was slowly falling. 

I took courage, for I felt that it would be necessary. 

“What kind of an impression would it make upon you, 
if I should come and say to you, ‘ you must marry?’ ” 

Hermann drew down the corners of his mouth scorn- 
fully, and looked over at my mother to invite her atten- 
tion, without vouchsafing me a reply. 

“To come to the point, mother,” he began, “I come 
on an errand for Captain Langenbach, who begs for 
Paula’s hand; after obtaining your consent, he will speak 
to Paula herself.” 

My mother paused, then turned her face slowly 
toward me, as if she wished to find out what effect those 
words had had upon me. I sat motionless, staring at 
the fire; but she could not see that my face had turned 
deathly pale. Before my mother had time to answer, I 
had lost control of myself. A flush superseded the 
pallor upon my face. 

“Tell your friend that he need not have taken such a 
round-about way to learn that although his proposal is 
very flattering to me, it has no other effect.” 

With that I sprang up and walked toward the door, to 
escape to my room. 

A half-suppressed, mocking laugh followed me. It was 

9 


130 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

the same laugh which he had vexed us with when a 
boy. 

When I had reached my room, I concluded that I had 
acted indiscreetly in leaving him the field. But I com- 
forted myself with the thought that my mother surely 
would not dispose of me without my consent. Then I 
reproached myself for not having openly avowed my 
love for Radom to my mother before Hermann’s arrival. 

Had I not intended doing so when Hermann inter- 
rupted me? I had only needed a minute’s time and the 
words would have been spoken. 

I shuddered at the bare thought of becoming Langen- 
bach’s wife, and if until now I had only entertained an 
aversion to him, I now looked upon him as a schemer, a 
spendthrift, who designed to obtain possession of me, 
and through me of my fortune, by means of my brother’s 
influence. My mind revolted at this possibility; it 
seemed utterly impossible for me to give up Radom. 

Anxiously I paced up and down my room. I felt as if 
my danger increased with every second. I imagined the 
conversation between- my mother and brother; how he 
would, in his imperious way, take upon himself the right 
to govern me; how he would tell my mother that he had 
pledged his word to Langenbach, and how my mother, 
who was as wax in her son’s hands, would perhaps object, 
for she knew from what I had said that I disliked the 
man; how Hermann upon that would put all of Langen- 
bach’s good qualities in their best light, and finally 
would declare that he should carry his point, for he must 
keep his word; how at last my' mother would appease 
him by promising to exert her influence upon me to 
induce me, whereupon Hermann would take his leave, 
after expressing the wish to have the matter settled by a 
certain day. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 131 

Scarcely a quarter of an hour had elapsed when I heard 
the sound of wheels upon the snow. I saw the carriage 
drive off. They could have lost no time, for Hermann 
left so quickly; very probably he drove directly to his 
friend to tell him that all was arranged; he could propose 
to me himself on the appointed day. 

Such was Hermann’s nature, and he could not change 
it. It was his custom to dictate his will in an independ- 
ent, imperious manner; to know no reason, no relenting, 
no mercy; to expect the fulfillment of his desires; and 
the parasites, by whom he was always surrounded, who 
divined his slightest wish, strengthened him in these 
habits which had become second nature. 

Brotherly love had been a stranger to him when a child, 
and he now had not the faintest spark of affection for 
his sister, who was to be the reward he gave an egotist 
like Langenbach, who in ‘‘ self-sacrificing friendship” 
had devoted himself to him for his own selfish ends. 

But Hermann should learn that his sister had just as 
firm a will, which knew no obedience where it was un- 
justly demanded, and that this will would even resist my 
mother’s desires, if she were weak enough to allow others 
to dictate to her and me. 

After that decision I was calmer. Radom should to- 
day receive a few lines from me. He should appeal to 
my mother, and, as there was nothing against his posi- 
tion and character, as even slander had not dared to 
touch him, my will must decide. 

Very much easier, my mind made up, I soon after 
went down-stairs. 

My mother had retired to her bed-room; her maid told 
me she did not wish to be disturbed, as she was suf- 
fering with a severe headache. 

That confirmed the suspicion I had of what had passed 


132 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

between her and Hermann. Every excitement caused a 
headache, and probably the first disagreement with Her- 
mann, after their reconciliation, would be doubly agi- 
tating. 

However that might be, my mother’s indisposition 
betrayed to me at least that she had tried to protect me 
against his arbitrariness, and that made my attitude 
toward my brother more confident. I looked upon it 
all as a plot between my brother and Langenbach against 
my peace of mind, my happiness; nor did I count much 
upon my mother’s help; in case of necessity I should 
have to defend myself. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

While my brother in his cold, unfeeling manner, imag- 
ined that he could rule my destiny, he himself became 
the prey to a passion which was already the talk of the 
town. 

Our residence was not large enough to ensure one’s 
private life from the judgment of the people; and a man 
like Count von M., who ruled over millions and counted 
his revenues by the hundreds of thousands, could surely 
not escape them. 

Stephanie von Ebersburg was considered by all beau- 
tiful, by many clever, witty, piquant and original, but 
by some fickle, designing and coquettish, and this latter 
opinion soon gained superiority. 

She was very well bred ; her appearance, her conversa- 
tion, her dress, breathed forth that unmistakable esprit 
which is only obtained in the highest circles; her con- 
versation was entertaining, overflowing with natural wit, 
and sometimes I had occasion to wonder at the bold- 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 133 

ness with which she, in speaking with gentlemen, would 
encroach upon territory which is beyond most women’s 
powers; the versatility and knowledge were marvelous, 
however, which she exhibited on those heights. 

She had especially chosen the poor Marquis de Chev- 
reux as the sport of her coquetry and her caprices; and 
he, who was enrolled amongst the first of her numerous 
admirers, had himself confessed that he felt obliged to 
summon all his scorn of death to his aid in such a dan- 
gerous position, in order to make head against the fire 
of her eyes and the keenness of her mental weapons. 

Chevreux, it was said, was consoling himself for the 
rejection he had received from me, in his adoration of 
Stephanie. He was always near her, and to her influence 
may it be ascribed that he did not use so much perfumery. 

They said of Stephanie that she often talked upon 
subjects which are avoided by most women. It might 
only have been her excessive merriment. Here is an 
instance. 

Stephanie had appeared in some tableaux as Bellona, 
and had been very warmly admired. 

Marquis de Chevreux, after the representation, began 
an argument with her about the custom of always repre- 
senting war and victory in our sober, Christian, military 
states by females. 

“ I think it preposterous,” said he. “ All are against 
the emancipation of women; we consider it bad taste if 
we see a woman, though she may be a lovely one, in an 
unwomanly dress; a lady who would appear in our streets 
with only a walking-stick, would be ridiculed; if, in time 
of war, she came with shield and lance, she would be 
considered mad; and yet, poetry clings to the classical 
immorality of exhibiting courage and strength by means 
of the most subtle, delicate creatures, to whom steel and 


134 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

iron are so adverse that it even pains me to see a 
needle in their dainty hands.” 

Stephanie on her side mentioned the Amazons and the 
female guard of the King of Dahomey. 

Chevreux went into details, and showed her that 
women were not formed for the rough and terrible work 
of war. 

She listened to him up to a certain point, when Chev- 
reux in his excitement drew out his scented handker- 
chief; she then interrupted his discourse, and cried with 
a laugh: 

“ You are right. Marquis, man is the symbol of 
strength! Hannibal’s warriors were enervated in Capua 
by the scent of the oranges and flowers. What would 
your ancestors, who so bravely fought against the Sara- 
cens, say if they could see that standard in your hand?” 

That evening Stephanie looked so lovely that, had I 
been a man, I could have fallen in love with her myself. 
With masterly coquetry she had known how to show to 
advantage as Bellona, and later, when she appeared in 
her ball-dress, she, who earlier had been so imposing as 
Goddess of War, was now as delicate and ethereal as a 
fairy; roguish and merry as a child; and received the 
gentlemen’s compliments with truly bewitching grace. 

Hermann that evening was enchanted with her. More 
than ever he ignored the impression he was making upon 
the other ladies; he saw only her, and once I was terrified 
by a glance which they exchanged, a glance which would 
have wounded an innocent girl’s heart, which disclosed 
to me an understanding between them, which could not 
possibly have stood a trial before a severe judge. 

From that evening I was inclined to put faith in the 
stories afloat about Stephanie. I recalled Radom’s in- 
sinuation when he saw her at our soirde. I felt sorry 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 135 

that such a charming exterior should conceal so corrupt 
a mind, and at the same time I was troubled about my 
brother; although I could not make up my mind to 
believe that Hermann, with his contempt for our sex, 
could really be threatened with any danger in that direc- 
tion. 

Nevertheless he spoke in town of their intimacy, and 
as usual, this story was embellished with details, which 
very likely were groundless. 

How much my mother heard of these rumors I do not 
know. Hermann had once been her idol, and notwith- 
standing his objectionable mode of life, he assumed the 
right of governing in our house, which right my mother 
readily conceded to him. 

On the evening of the day upon which Hermann had 
visited us, my mother sent for me to her boudoir. 

I found her upon the sofa, not suffering, as she said, 
but grave and very dejected. 

“ Paula,” she began, when at her suggestion I had 
moved my footstool to the side of the sofa, “ you heard 
Hermann’s wish this morning. I have considered the 
same, and find that there is nothing to be done against 
his choice. He gave me to understand that this is also 
the wish of Her Majesty, the Queen, who will speak to me 
about it upon the first opportunity that offers; it was 
therefore necessary to prepare both you and me.” 

My mother now ceased, awaiting my reply. 

“Did you hear me, Paula?” she asked, after a pause, 
no answer being forthcoming. 

“ I did, mother!” 

“ Are you then satisfied?” 

“ No!” 

“ Why not? Captain von Langenbach is one of our 
nicest officers; there is a brilliant career before him.” 


1*36 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

“Which I do not propose to share, mother!*' 

“ Did you not understand that the queen wishes it?” 

“ I can not grant the queen the right over my heart 
and happiness. The privilege of being admitted to court 
does not outweigh my peace and welfare, and you know 
that my father even rejected that privilege, when he 
could not reconcile it with his pride and his claims. I 
have been told that it was not the fault alone of my 
father’s over-weening pride, of his too sensitive tempera- 
ment that he withdrew from the court, but that he left 
the field to intrigues, which he did not consider worth 
contesting, and which were not unknown to the queen. 
I do not care to have her interfere with my life.” 

“ If it were my wish, too, Paula?” 

“It is not, mother! It is only an idea which Her- 
mann has stirred up, and which I, even if I had no other 
reason, would spurn on that account; for Hermann has, 
in my eyes, no right to any authority over me, which he 
would misuse at the cost of my happiness to favor the 
companion of his libertinism.” 

“ It was your father’s will, which he impressed upon 
me, that Hermann, as soon as he had attained his major- 
ity, should perform toward us all those duties which he 
had done during his life-time.” 

My mother said this impressively. I knew by her 
voice that my fate was decided. 

“To honor my father’s will shall be a sacred duty to 
me,” I answered, with the same decision, “ but Hermann 
will never rule me. As long as he can not prove to me 
by his own life that he is worthy and capable of acting 
in the same spirit as my beloved father, I shall receive 
no commands from him.” 

My mother seemed annoyed. She recognized unwill- 
ingly the truth and justice of my words. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 137 

“ Langenbach has Hermann’s promise,” she continued, 
after a pause. 

“ But not mine, which he will never obtain.” 

“You know Hermann! You know very well how 
highly he prizes the value and inviolableness of his 
word.” 

“ He could only give Captain von Langenbach that 
word as far as he himself was concerned. He has kept 
his promise.” 

“I fear you have already given your heart.” 

The severity of her voice struck me. 

“You fear, mother? Do you think that your daughter 
would choose an unworthy object?” 

“You love Herr von Radom, Paula. It has not 
escaped my notice.” 

“Counting upon your penetration, mother, I did not 
think it necessary to confess to you, what could not 
remain a secret. Yes, I love Otto von Radom, and he 
has my promise!” 

“ I spoke of my suspicions to Hermann. He indig- 
nantly declared that he would never consent to such a 
thing. I, for my part, have nothing against the man, but 
there must be something between those two that will 
prevent anything of the kind.” 

A secret fear raged in my heart. Again that “ some- 
thing ” which I had tried so fruitlessly to fathom, and 
that “ something ” again oppressed me. 

Perhaps Hermann had spoken to my mother about it. 

“ I do not know what can be between them.” I 
answered, in a suppressed voice. “ I know, of course, 
that their habits, passions, and inclinations are as differ- 
ent as their characters, but as far as I know, they first 
became acquainted here.” 

‘The fault of this antipathy is, without doubt, on 


138 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

Radom’s side. It was very rude of him, if he really liked 
you, not to pay your brother all the respect and attention 
which was his due; for, if Radom hoped for your hand, he 
should not have acted so toward Hermann, or your mother. 
Langenbach was sharper than the diplomatist, of whose 
cleverness I should have had a very poor opinion, had he 
not convinced us to the contrary regarding that business 
of mine. It was inexcusable in him to assume an attitude 
at once toward my son and your brother, which would 
infallibly lead to unpleasantness, especially where there 
was such a difference in dispositions.” 

My mother’s words were full of truth; a truth which 
was so much more painful to me, because it menaced my 
happiness. 

In the course of the day I sent Otto a few lines, 
urgently begged him to work against my brother’s influ- 
ence over my mother, and not to fail to call the next day. 

Hermann and my mother must have talked over Ra- 
dom’s rude behavior; Hermann must have used it to 
advance his, or rather Langenbach ’s, aims, and my mother, 
forgetting the gratitude she owed Radom, was now com- 
pletely prejudiced against him. 

So I was surrounded by secret, hostile influences; by 
adverse motives, which, together with my mother’s words, 
made me doubt if Radom could really have loved me so 
truly, for he had not sacrificed all things to his love. 

My mother’s well-known habit of keeping her decisions 
for days, yes, for weeks, to herself before she expressed 
them, or carried them out, troubled me. It was her cus- 
tom to pretend to be indifferent, or to be considering, 
long after she had fully made up her mind. 

When I left my mother’s boudoir, without having 
obtained any satisfaction, I went to my room and burst 
into tears. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 139 

It was Strange; it was not the thought of my brother's 
power over me, not the danger of seeing his will triumph- 
ant, that made me so unhappy; the doubts concerning 
Radom’s love for me, which my mother had aroused, 
attacked my poor heart with such sudden and unconquer- 
able force that I was powerless against them. 

Radom’s manner to me from the beginning loomed up 
in my memory; his indifference, his contempt, then the 
surprising change, his strange conduct toward Hermann, 
which seemed to me at times like fear or uncertainty, his 

suspense, his generally odd behavior ^No, no, Radom 

had not been open with me! He, the shrewd diplomatist, 
may have discovered that I, notwithstanding his insults, 
was not angry with him; he may have taken advantage of 
this to 

I was terrified at the thought of perhaps having been 
made the plaything of a diplomatic whim. My pride was 
up in arms at the bare idea of this man having misused 
my heart! 

And was it not more than probable? Could he not have 
paid me attention openly before all, attentions which I 
would have gladly returned as openly? What hindered 
him, in his position, from proposing to me as Chevreux 
had done, as others would have done, had they not been 
frightened off by Chevreux’ fate; as Langenbach would 
have done, had he not foreseen that he would fail without 
my brother’s support? 

The evening passed miserably; my feelings were 
equally divided between wounded pride and a deep, true 
love; my brain weaved dark thoughts, my heart bled 
afresh each time that I thought of the possibility of hav- 
ing been deceived. In addition to that, I reproached my- 
self and said it was my just punishment for deceiving 
ray raother. 


140 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

I did not see her any more that evening. I was alone 
in my room, for I had dismissed my maid early. 

The evening was just fitted for anguish, for a storm 
was raging outside, dashing the snow against the win- 
dows, and whistling amongst the trees, so that I was 
almost afraid of myself. 

Late at night, after tossing for hours upon my bed, 
which was to me as a bed of thorns, while I pictured 
myself disgraced, mocked at by society, which as yet 
knew nothing of my secret — late at night I wrestled with 
my thoughts and gained the victory. 

Radom loved me just as dearly as I loved him, was the 
result of those stormy, changeful reflections, and I had 
innumerable small but weighty proofs of it. But our 
love had an enemy; it was that secret “something,’' a 
secret that Radom carefully hid from me, and therein 
» lay the unnaturalness of our love, which, like all love, 
craved full, unreserved confidence. To him, only to 
him was it owing, as my mother had said, that our love 
was unhappy; but I — indeed, I was not any the less un- 
happy on that account! 

There must be an explanation; very likely to-morrow, 
when Radom would come to ask my mother for my hand. 

With this consolation, I fell asleep after midnight, only 
to awake with a heart filled with doubt and forebodings. 

Early in the morning I received a note from Radom, 
through my maid whom I had let into the secret, count- 
ing upon the early sanction of my engagement to him. 

He assured me that he would be with us at noon; he 
counted positively upon my mother’s blessing, for she 
could not refuse him. 

Those few lines were as a message from Heaven to 
my tired, aching heart. I hastily dressed myself and 
paid my morning visit to my mother. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 141 

She was, if not happier, at least calmer. She kissed 
me affectionately upon my brow, and chatted with me 
freely on indifferent subjects. 

I soon noticed that she was watching me furtively. I 
expected the question why I looked so pale, and was pre- 
pared for it. 

But she did not mention it, and I took special pains to 
hide my suspense. 

I was startled to hear her say that as the weather was 
pleasanter she proposed paying some calls in town that 
afternoon. 

If only Otto were prompt ! 

It would have been torment for me to wait another 
four and twenty hours for the decision of my fate, 
although this fate was not to be decided by me. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

I was very much agitated all the morning. 

Sitting at the window in my room, I took up a book. 
But my thoughts wandered. 

I read whole pages without knowing what I read. I 
took the morning paper and read that Captain von Lang- 
enbach had again been decorated by such and such a 
monarch with such and such an order. 

Already the name of this man was sufficient to make 
me tremble. I hated him. His underhand way of 
screening himself behind my brother, inspired me with 
disgust. 

Probably they had talked me over at their champagne, 
and Hermann had pledged his word to his intimate 
friend, in brotherly love had sworn to him that his sister 


142 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

should become his wife, by virtue of the authority which 
his father’s will had given him. 

It was a knavish trick on the part of this man, for he 
knew that I had never given him the least encourage- 
ment. 

What I had formerly heard of his heartlessness, of his 
unscrupulousness, had affected me but little; now it all 
returned to me, and filled me with loathing. 

The queen desired this marriage. Probably only be- 
cause Langenbach had informed her of his wishes through 
Princess Henrietta. 

How came the queen to wish to exert such influence 
over my fate? 

I shuddered at the thought that the day after to-mor- 
row a soiree, to which we were invited, would take place 
in the queen’s apartments. 

Without doubt the queen would utilize this occasion 
to speak to my mother of her wishes, and my mother, 
who had once been such a clever, penetrating woman, 
now in her incomprehensible servility would give in to 
her wishes. 

At this court upon which my father in his wounded 
pride had turned his back, she found in the queen, who 
had thwarted my father’s plans by preferring some one 
inferior to him in intellect, an oracle; and always 
returned from court delighted with the grace and atten- 
tion paid her by this haughty, unfeeling woman. 

I knew the hour at which my mother had ordered the 
carriage. Every minute was an age to me, the hand of 
my watch crept along so slowly, while my pulse quick- 
ened tenfold. 

Then I saw Radom’s neat coup4 drive up. I rose, hid 
behind the curtains and saw him descend. 

Several minutes passed. I listened anxiously. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 143 

Otto did not return at once to his coup6, so my mother 
must have received him. 

In the small salon down stairs they were deciding my 
fate. Deciding? By no means! Although my heart 
beat wildly, and my pulse was irregular, I had the cour- 
age to repeat my unalterable will. 

As I stood at the window in feverish agitation, inca- 
pable of moving, our carriage also drove up. The tv/o 
coachmen conversed from their boxes. My heart grew 
more fearful. 

A sound in the next room startled me. Hastily, and 
with trembling limbs, I stepped back into the room. 
They were surely coming to summon me. 

All was still. It was my maid who had some work to 
do in the next room. I could have burst into tears at 
• this disappointment. 

Then I suddenly heard a carriage door shut. It was 
Otto’s coup6 which rolled off. 

And I had missed seeing him! Possibly I might have 
gathered from his face, had I caught a glimpse of it, 
what kind of answer he had received. 

Completely exhausted, I threw myself upon a sofa and 
buried my face in my hands. 

At any rate my mother would now send for me. 

Some time passed. Again a carriage rolled away. 

I sprang up, I rushed to the window. It was my 
mother’s carriage. She was going to town to make 
purchases and pay calls. In a few hours she returned. 

I had forced myself to a certain degree of composure 
— a composure which inspired me with the firm resolu- 
tion not to become the slave of another’s will, happen 
what might. 

So I succeeded, upon my mother's return, in meeting 
her, to all appearances, self-possessed. 


144 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

She, too, seemed more composed. She told me about 
her calls, and showed me some of her purchases. Then 
she sank upon a sofa and began: 

“ Apropos, Paula, Baron von Radom was here this 
morning and came for no less a purpose than to propose 
for my daughter’s hand.” 

My heart almost stood still; I felt the color leave my 
face. I was not able to utter a word, and remained in 
such a position that my mother could not perceive my 
pallor. 

“Did you hear what I said, Paula?” she repeated. “ It 
concerned you!” 

“ Yes!” I managed to gasp. “I expected it!” I added, 
softly. 

“ I told Herr von Radom that his proposal flattered 
me, and that I had expected it — but think, Paula,” inter- 
rupting herself. “ Radom seemed to assume that you 
would not reject him. How could he do so?” 

My mother’s voice sounded so cold and heartless 
that my courage revived. 

“ He did so, mother,” replied I, turping to her, 
“ because he knows that he is the only man that I truly 
esteem and — love!” 

“ I thought so,” was my mother’s quiet answer, “ for 
you have not left me in doubt of it.” 

“ Then, mother, do not keep me in doubt as to the 
answer you gave him!” I cried out. 

“ I told him exactly what could be said under the 
circumstances — that I must leave the decision to my son 
as head of the house, at the same time reproving him for 
his rude behavior toward Hermann.” 

Being unable to remain standing, I sank into a chair, 
and stared before me. 

My mother was probably startled at my pallor. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 145 

** For that reason I begged for several weeks’ time, to 
which he willingly agreed. I must confess,” she added, 
in a peculiar tone, it gave me some satisfaction to make 
him feel his lack of civility toward Hermann.” 

I scarcely heard the latter part of what she said and 
attached no importance to it, for how could a mother 
think of such trifles when her own daughter’s happiness 
was at stake. 

At any rate, no pains had been spared to set her 
against Radom. The lack of respect, yes, of subjection, 
which was her son’s due, was an insult to her, and she 
gladly seized the opportunity to punish it. 

Of how little value was her daughter’s happiness, in 
the eyes of my mother, compared to her Ion’s wounded 
pride, for whose sake the former had hi ways been sacri- 
ficed. Her son’s injured vanify and her daughter’s’ 
, happiness! 

With what tender love had I clung to my mother since 
my childhood. Between us there had always been that 
close, companionable intercourse, which had made her 
the confidant of all that passed within me. She had 
been my counselor, my protector, to whom I always 
looked up, and never between mother and daughter had 
there existed a more affectionate bond. 

My brother’s coarse, overbearing nature had driven 
her to me. 

But since we had left the castle, indeed, since our ar- 
rival at the Residence, a complete change had taken 
place in my mother. She became more worldly; she did 
not find employment and amusement in her home, as she 
had often done during my father’s life-time. 

She was only happy when she could display her knowl- 
edge in the salons, and could converse with certain 
men. She did not interest herself so gladly and so 
10 


146 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

entirely in me, though I tried to be to her what I should 
be. 

I noticed this change at first with sadness. It pained 
me that her affections should grow cold; that my love 
would no more find that cheerful, sympathetic mother’s 
heart. 

She had only grieved at the separation from her son, 
and now that he was with her again, she overwhelmed 
him with tenderness, which he did not value, but rather 
abused, while her daughter was being moved out of her 
heart altogether. 

Do not let us speak of this anymore to-day!” my 
mother continued, as she saw what an effect her harsh, 
unsympathetic words had made upon me. “The dress- 
maker will be here in half an hour; we have much still 
to arrange for the soiree to-morrow at the castle!” 

My mother arose to examine the materials which her 
maid had spread out, threw them carelessly aside one 
after another, and went to her room. 

With a shudder I looked after her, on whose breast I 
had once wept away my childish sorrows/ and found my 
joy. 

Until to-day I had never given her any trouble, op- 
posed her will, or expressed a wish which would re- 
quire her to sacrifice herself for me, and now when she 
saw that she could make her only daughter happy, now 
she was harsh and unsympathetic, subordinating herself 
to a will whose sordid motives she was forced to admit. 

From that day, I, too, was changed. 

I awoke to a feeling of self-dependence, which my 
brother’s commands and my mother’s thoughtless com- 
pliance occasioned. 

Radom, I told myself, was right. 

> My brother's unbounded, ill-natured selfishness; his 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 147 

boastfulness, his scorn of true worth, must call forth, in 
such a man as he, disgust and aversion which he was too 
proud, too independent, to conceal. They could force 
me to give him up, but to marry another — never! 

The next evening my mother attended the queen's 
soiree alone. 

I was ill and miserable. I felt a mental and physical 
exhaustion which I attributed to relaxation after the 
strain upon my nerves, to which probably many sleepless 
nights contributed their share. 

I might have forced myself, pale and weary as I was, 
to go, but I dreaded even the thought of that soir4e, and 
our physician prescribed rest. 

My mother returned sooner than I expected. I heard 
the carriage stop before our door, and then a noise in 
the Tower part of the house. 

To my astonishment^ Aiy mother entered my room and 
approached my bed. 

She was very animated, and as I gazed at her in her 
negligee I thought she was still a beautiful woman; a re- 
mark which I had often heard from others, but which I 
had never paid much attention to. 

With some affection she bent ovef me and took my 
hand. Involuntarily I felt a chill creep over me as she 
kissed my brow. 

My mother was in the mood to talk about the soiree. 
She was very lively and well-satisfied with the course 
events had taken, and informed me of the general regret 
at my absence. 

She again spoke af the queen’s especial attention, said 
that she had conversed with her a long time, and had 
inquired for me. p 

She then told me who was present, of the toilets of 
the young ladies with whom I was acquainted, of Chev- 


148 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

reux, who had a new perfume made from flowers that 
came from Juan Fernandez, and of many others, and 
when she perceived that I was very little interested, she 
left me to seek repose. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Both of us felt oppressed and miserable at nome. I 
had been obliged to promise my mother not to see Otto 
von Radom. She had wrung this promise from me by 
referring to the proprieties, without leaving me any com- 
fort, any hope. 

Otto had not attended the queen’s soiree either. He 
announced that to me in a note, which my maid handed 
to me the next morning. 

His lines gave me very little comfort. They showed 
that he was very despondent, although he assured me 
that he hoped everything from such an affectionate mother. 

Otto did not know her as I had lately learned to know 
her, and from my mother’s manner I had cause to expect 
anything but encouragement. She was more cheerful and 
talkative than formerly; she was kind to me, but betrayed 
no sympathy for me, though she could see how low- 
spirited I was. 

Radom I was not allowed to see, whereas Langenbach 
called upon us the day after the soir4e. 

When he was announced I rose quickly, and was about 
to leave the room, but a severe, displeased look from my 
mother commanded me to remain. 

Langenbach was arrayed in his full uniform. He was 
very inoffensive, and pretended that he was anxious to 
find out how I was. 

My manner toward him was polite, but distant. I, too, 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 149 

wished to appear as if nothing had happened. I took 
part in the conversation, conquering the loathing I felt 
for that roud. 

Pie told us of a “magnificent” hunting-party which 
Hermann had given, and of the supper which followed. 

Each of his words was an apotheosis of my brother, 
with which he sought to ingratiate himself with my mother, 
while I could perceive the “toady” in his every word. 

Just such young men as Langenbach were my brother’s 
ruin. All sang his praises, all revelled in his liberality, 
which so willingly helped along flattering idlers, but as I 
had often noticed, chased the truly poor and needy with 
kicks from the threshold. 

I despised this light, pleasure-seeking company of 
parasites, whom I had seen so many times at my father’s 
table; but I knew that at the Residence the swarm of 
young and old men, who surrounded my brother with 
their flattery, consisted for the most part of morally ruined 
individuals, whose inner corruption was covered by an 
illustrious name, and whose routine in the path of vice 
could be only fatal to my brother at his immature age. 

He only cared for those who fell at his feet; to him 
flattery was a lawful tribute, which he required from all, 
and he who at the same time indulged his inordinate 
longing after enjoyment, was the most welcome to him. 

Perhaps I judged Langenbach more severely than he 
really deserved, at any rate, his was, on account of his 
selfish interests, a servile nature, and that I should be the 
reward of his servility, capped the climax. 

Langenbach may not have seen through the part which 
I played. 

He seemed very happy; he tried as usual to make the 
most favorable impression upon me, and when he, with 
the consciousness of having so impressed me, attempted 


150 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

to kiss my hand upon leaving, I felt as if I must awaken 
him from his delusion, and prevented this gallantry by a 
hasty movement. 

♦ ♦ * ♦ ♦ 

While nothing was being said about my fate, and I 
could not even correspond secretly with Otto von Radom 
because some official matters had taken him from home, 
we received an invitation to the wedding of the banker’s 
daughter and Carlsburg. 

As the bride’s father managed my mother’s financial 
affairs, she thought it her duty to accept. 

“I shall not go, mother!” said I, in answer to her 
question. “ It would be against my principles to attend 
this wedding. It would be unfeeling toward poor Marie, 
who, since she heard of the engagement, has gone about 
like a shadow. This Carlsburg must be an unconscion- 
able adventurer.” 

“ H’m, he is no different from other young men who 
have the chance to gain a position! His family is poor, 
and his bride will receive a dowry of half a million. That 
is the way of the world.” 

“ At any rate it was cruel, almost criminal to feign a 
love for the poor girl which he could never have enter- 
tained for her. As a poor lieutenant he must have 
known that he could never marry her, for, at her father’s 
death, Marie’s small income was confiscated, which now, 
thank Heaven, she has again received.” 

“ She might have known it herself, and have rejected 
his advances. It is very foolish for a poor girl to receive 
attention from a young man who has no prospects.” 

“You condemn the heart, mother, which is a girl’s most 
beautiful and noblest ornament.” 

“ The heart! Where is the heart, when want and misery 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 151 

fill it with care, sorrow, and doubt. There is no room in 
our world for the heart’s fantasies since we have become 
so fashionable; and this Carlsburg, who must be a good 
financier, for he gained his reputation so quickly as a 
merchant, evidently looked upon his relations with this 
credulous girl as a flirtation which of course would come 
to nothing. I am sorry for her,” my mother added, but 
her voice grew stern; “ still she can thank herself for it.” 

What my mother had said was doubtlessly aimed at me. 
I felt a bitterness which I could not entirely suppress. 

“ I remember that my mother once spoke differently to 
me,” said I slowly and emphatically. “ The heart’s pu- 
rity and truth, and clearness of understanding are the 
conditions and aims of all careful training,” said she to 
me. 

‘‘ And so she says to-day, if you would only under- 
stand her,” was the rebuking answer. “All training 
without purity will fail; it is the heart’s duty to guide the 
understanding toward good, without trying to master it. 
The understanding, if cultivated to its utmost, is incalcu- 
lable in its egotism, and what the heart can take from it 
for the benefit of others, without detriment to itself, will 
be the result of an education in accordance with the 
spirit of the age. The heart can only serve as the regu- 
lator of this immeasurable egotism.” 

I saw from the nature of her talk that my mother 
would make no concessions. She was very abrupt in 
the expression of her principles, and could prove to me 
to a hair’s breadth, that her former ideas coincided 
entirely with her present ones, but that I had mistaken 
them. 

I thought I recognized in her words my father’s max- 
ims; that same lofty, finely clothed egotism, which in my 
brother became harsh and disgusting. 


152 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

The gentle, affectionate nature of my mother, and 
her charming way of expressing herself, concealed the 
nucleus of that same egotism, which, by my father’s 
example had been germinated in her mind, and which, 
in loving memory of the dead, had been cultivated by a' 
careful hand. Therefore that complete harmony with 
her son; therefore, too, the indulgent, almost approving 
view of his insolent, overbearing worship of self. That 
gave me the key to one of her recently-made remarks, 
when I once said that Hermann’s wild life inspired me 
with horror, and must effect every refined nature the 
same. 

“ It does not become us women,” said she, “ to criti- 
cise the life of a courtier, for our minds are narrow, and 
we can only base our opinions on the laws of a woman’s 
world, which are not respected by men. Hermann, as a 
prototype of a young, handsome, and gallant heir to an 
enormous fortune, has the right to make the most of 
those gifts, indifferent to the opinion of those who are 
less favored by Providence and fortune than he — without 
regard to those who foolishly put themselves in his way. 
If there is one duty which he has to jkrform, it is that 
of distinguishing himself by means of his advantages, 
before those who are his equals. One can not be a 
gallant without abusing, in some measure, one’s privi- 
leges. The flight of the eagle is controlled by the 
strength of his wings, while the inferior order of birds 
can not venture out of the lower atmosphere. So it 
would be absurd for us women to attach the slightest 
importance to the comments of the middle class upon 
the mode of life of a young man like Hermann, for they 
like to slander what is incomprehensible to their domes- 
tic minds, and revenge themselves thus upon those above 
them.” 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 153 

I, however, succeeded in carrying my purpose, and my 
mother also found some pretext for not attending the 
very magnificently-celebrated nuptials of Carlsburg. 

Since Marie had left us, I had only seen her twice, and 
then only when I went to inquire after her health. 

Carlsburg’s infidelity seemed really to have totally 
upset the poor girl. It is true she smiled sadly when I 
told her of my joy at the restoration of her mother’s 
small income, and of her father’s good name, which had 
been announced in all the newspapers; but I saw that 
she took no pleasure in what I said. Her interest in life 
was gone, her thoughts were busy with her fate, and these 
were embittered by the stir which the wedding occa- 
sioned in the town. 

I had grave fears for the poor girl’s life when I paid 
her my last visit. 

She was pale and weak. Her complexion was almost 
transparent, and in her lovely eyes there was a kind of 
glorification which put me in mind of heaven. 

Her mother, who knew of her love, was very much 
grieved; her daughter’s misfortune destroyed all the 
pleasure she would have taken in her restored fortune. 

She only spoke of it as at least lightening her poor 
daughter’s burden, for Marie would not now have to 
worry about their living, would not have to work hard 
all night, from which, formerly, nothing could keep her. 

But Marie’s inactivity evidently only served to turn 
her thoughts upon her trouble. She was obliged to do 
nothing, for her health was broken; it was impossible for 
her to work. 

The sight of these two was a great trial to me. The 
mother, so nervous, that when she laid aside her knit- 
ting her hands would move convulsively until she again 
took up her work and employed her fingers; the daugh- 


154 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

ter, pale, low-spirited, weary of an existence which in 
its earlier stages had been made miserable by the scorn 
and disgrace heaped upon her innocent father, which 
later had made of her a slave to her needle, a sufferer 
from poverty and want, and finally had turned her one 
hope, her love, into the meanest perfidy. Even the 
affection which Marie had usually shown me, had van- 
ished. She was apathetic, indifferent; her smile was 
forced, her voice was weak and faint. As she gave me 
her hand it lay almost lifeless in mine, and when she 
went with me to the stairs, she said to me that she felt 
as if this would be the last time that she should see me. 

Little did I dream that she spoke the truth. The 
morning after Carlsburg’s marriage my maid came to my 
bed-side very early, told me not to be frightened, and said, 
breathlessly, that Marie had been found in the court-yard 
of her dwelling, crushed to pieces. The unfortunate 
girl, in a fit of temporary insanity, had thrown herself 
out of the window, when her mother thought her asleep 
in her little room, whence she had retired early, somewhat 
livelier and more natural in her manner, after saying af- 
fectionately, “ Good-night, I wish to rest!’' 

That legacy of all Mary’s! The prophecy of her 
aunt, which she had related to me with a sad smile. 
That occurred to me as my maid, pale and agitated, 
brought me the news. 

Marie could only have committed such a deed while 
out of her mind; for her devotion to her mother, to 
whom the deed would be a death-blow, had she been 
sane, would have prompted her to suffer and perhaps in 
time to forget. 

This occurrence shocked me very much. I dressed 
myself hastily. I hurried to my mother, who had already 
heard the news, and shook her head silently. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 155 

A short while since she had spoken so indifferently, so 
unsympathetically of the unhappy girl’s simplicity, of 
her “clinging to a man ” who could promise her nothing 
in the future, but now in the face of this tragic end, she 
did not dare to introduce her heartless remarks. 

Marie was sacrificed, and Carlsburg, I heard in the 
course of the day, had gone on a journey with his young 
wife. Perhaps he had not even heard of Marie’s terrible 
death, and if he had? — 

No one judged him, the murderer, and with the great- 
est comfort he, the once poor lieutenant, now the fortu- 
nate merchant, would enjoy the millions which he had 
gained by his lucky speculations — that is, his marriage 
with the banker’s plain daughter. 

Perhaps if she were to hear of Marie’s death, she 
would only have a pitying smile for her; for Marie was 
poor and had the fate of poverty — she had a heart! 

Golgotha! How many have preceded her on that 
narrow way, and how many will follow her — to Golgotha! 

I reproached myself for not having thought more of 
Marie lately, for having forgotten her sorrow in my own. 

Did I know what was before me? was not my fate to 
be decided, and was not the time approaching all too 
quickly? for “my mind presaged me ill.” 

Eugenie, too, I had forgotten. 

For eight days I had heard nothing of her. I had suc- 
ceeded in obtaining a lodging for her with a family, until 
she should recover. From there she could visit her child 
daily, and there was a possibility of her finding a posi- 
tion as governess in some institute in which she could 
teach French. 

She might be vexed with me; poor, deserted girl, for 
she did not know what I had been through in the mean- 
time. 


156 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

She was too proud to accept any help from me. 

The proceeds from the sale of her jewels, which I had 
bought back in order to return them to her, would not 
long keep her child and her from want; something must 
be done for her, and without the knowledge of my 
mother, who, as yet had no idea of her presence in town. 

.Only when she had succeeded in obtaining a good sit- 
uation in town or out of it, should she hear of the poor 
girl’s adversities and flight; yes, it would give me satisfac- 
tion to tell her myself as soon as Eugenie was provided 
for. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

The next forenoon my cab stopped before the house 
in which my protegee had found a lodging. 

I had left home under the pretense of shopping in 
town, and had stolen half an hour in which to visit 
Eugenie. 

Still reproaching myself for not having seen the miser- 
able girl sooner, I ascended the steps and entered 
the widow’s modest dwelling. 

She came toward me timidly, and recognizing me 
clasped her hands entreatingly, 

I foresaw some new misfortune. 

My tongue was paralyzed so that I could scarcely 
inquire for Eugenie. 

“ She has gone! Oh, the terrible scandal!” cried the 
woman, wringing her hands and sinking upon a chair, 
from which she had risen upon my entrance. 

“Gone! How is that possible? Where? Speak!” 

“ Gone, and with a scandal which will make me the 
laughing-stock of the whole neighborhood!” repeated 
the woman. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 157 

“A scandal? I do^ot understand you!” 

“ The police came after her. She was sent home, 
escorted by a policeman, who took her belongings, too, 
was taken to the station just as she was and went. She 
was represented to me as a widow; how was I to suspect 
that I had taken in a person who had run away from her 
husband, and taken valuables belonging to him? Who 
will now pay me what she owes? I may consider myself 
lucky if they do me no harm for falsely representing her 
as a widow.” 

“ Do not trouble yourself, my good woman; you shall 
be compensated by me,” said I, in a voice which still 
trembled. “But tell me clearly what happened, and 
what has become of her child.” 

“ Of her child? That is of no consequence. The poor 
little thing is probably with its nurse. Ah! I almost for- 
got. She asked the officer for a few minutes' grace in 
which to write a few lines to a lady. There lays the 
letter; do you know the lady to whom it is addressed?” 

I took up the letter and held it in my trembling hand 
in order to read the superscription, which was written in 
pencil. 

“ It is addressed to me.” 

“ Ah! you are the Countess von M.?” cried the 
woman, astonished, and rising respectfully, for I had 
never mentioned my name to her. 

Without replying, I opened the letter. 

Eugenie had written it hurriedly in French: 

“ I am the victim of a fresh act of violence. I have been 
arrested and shall be taken back to S. to be given over 
to justice, nominally, because I have left my husband and 
have stolen articles of value from him. I am accused of 
having taken money which was intrusted to my husband. 

“ Before God I swear that I am innocent; that I only 
took with me, to save myself and my child for a time 


158 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

from want, those trinkets, which were given me by 
you. 

“ I must submit; must let them do with me what they 
will. But I shall find an opportunity, countess, to inform 
you of my fate. 

“ Protect my child, and I will bear what is decreed. 
God will not desert me. 

“Oh! had I only followed my first prompting, and 
returned to France! I have had no happiness in this 
strange land in which I thought to find a second home. 

“Eugenie.” 

In no way satisfied I put the letter in my pocket, 
handed the woman twice as much as was owing to her, 
assured myself that the officer had taken all of her 
belongings, and left the house with the assurance that 
Eugenie was innocent, and that I should exert every 
means to protect her from unjust accusations. 

Greatly agitated, I returned home. 

Eugenie a thief — it -was impossible! 

I myself had the trinkets, which I had redeemed, 
intending to surprise her by returning them to her. I 
knew them all; we had given them to her on her differ- 
ent birthdays. 

Did this accusation come from the husband she had 
been forced to marry? 

It was not very likely, for he who had mistreated her, 
had put her out of the house, must be glad that she had 
left him, so that he was relieved from the expense 
incurred by her and the child. 

But who could it have been? 

That was what puzzled me. 

I pictured to myself Eugenie dragged away as a thief, 
and I not able to help her. 

I might have called upon Radom, but that, too, was 
impossible. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 159 

There was nothing for me to do but to leave Eugenie 
to her fate, and in the meantime to care for her child. 

Upon my way home I saw, in a street near our house, a 
crowd of people before the house in which poor Marie’s 
mother lived, and when I arrived home, I was met with 
the news that the clergyman had refused to bury Marie 
because she had taken her life. 

Until it had been decided, the coffin was to be placed 
in a vault. The people in that quarter took up the matter 
so energetically, however, that they carried out their will. 
What a world! 

The girl who was deceived, was denied a decent burial, 
while her murderer, now a wealthy man, was rising, in the 
eyes of the world, to still higher honors! 

The next day I thought of a way of helping Eugenie. 
I would write to my mother’s solicitor, who lived in a town 
near our castle, before whom, probably, she would be taken. 
I would ask him to interest himself in her, but in such a 
way that my mother should not learn of my intervention. 

I was unlucky with my prot^g^es. But was not I un- 
lucky, too? 

The time had passed, and my fate was to be decided. 
Radom had returned, and described to me in a note the 
anxiety which had oppressed him on the way. He could 
not wait another hour; he must learn his fate. 

I comforted him with a few lines, and spoke to him of 
a hope which I did not possess, for my mother’s manner 
promised nothing good. I felt that she wished to prepare 
me for the inevitable. 

Even my maid added to my fears. Without knowing 
what it related to, she told me that, while my mother’s 
maid was ill, she had helped my mother at her toilet, and 
once she had unconsciously uttered her thoughts aloud: 

I am sorry, but I can not help it.” 


160 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

When I, one bright winter’s day, returned from the 
church-yard, where I had had Marie’s grave planted with 
evergreens, which in the spring were to be changed for 
flowers, my brother was with my mother, and with him 
was — Langenbach. 

Very much disturbed upon hearing of the presence of 
these two, I flew to my room, determined to lock myself 
in, and not to open the door, even if my mother de- 
manded it. 

Not dreaming that Langenbach had come with my 
brother to thank my mother for her gracious consent, 
there was a weight upon my breast. I do not know what 
possessed me, but when I saw Hermann and Langenbach 
enter the former’s carriage and drive away, I laughed 
aloud. 

I remembered how Hermann had caused the defense- 
less Eugenie to be dragged to the altar, and that my 
mother had saved her from that dreadful act of violence; 
but now she could allow him to force his own sister into the 
arms of a rou^! I would rather follow Marie’s example, 
and throw myself out of the window! 

I was seized with a frenzy which was probably called 
forth by the danger which threatened me. I was not 
even frightened when someone knocked at my door, 
when my maid called to me that my mother desired to 
speak to me. 

Resolutely I stepped to the door, opened it, descended 
the stairs to the small salon in which my mother was 
awaiting me, the same room in which she usually received 
her visitors. 

Without doubt she had something of importance to 
tell me. She was sitting at the window. Without look- 
ing at me, she pointed to an easy-chair opposite her. 

“I have something to say to you, Paula.” Her voice 
was firm and steady. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 161 

Silently I drew back the fauteuil and seated myself. 
My mother beat a tattoo upon the window. 

“ Langenbach was just here with Hermann,” she began, 
looking into the street to avoid my gaze. 

“ I saw them drive away.” 

‘‘ Can you imagine why Langenbach was here?” 

No,” was my cold reply. 

He has just received my consent. Hermann pressed 
for a decision.” 

‘‘ And does Hermann think that I shall give my con- 
sent, or does Herr von Langenbach think so?” 

My mother looked at me reprovingly. 

“ You will do what we consider best for you,” said she, 
abruptly and severely. 

“ And what if I propose to obey the dictates of my 
own heart, and not -Hermann’s orders, which he issues 
so imperiously, and against which I rebel? Did I not 
know, mother, that Hermann has planned and willed that 
I should be given to the companion of his debauchery? 
Did I not know that he has abused your weakness in 
order to give me to a man whom I despise for his 
scheming? Did I know that it was your own wish, I 
would beseech you, my mother, to grant that which is 
for my happiness, and I would move your heart. I 
would implore you, until you consented for me to give 
my hand to the man whom I love with my whole heart, 
who alone is worthy of me! But it is only your submis- 
sion to Hermann’s will that is going to cause my misery! 
You say that Hermann, as a cavalier, is not to be com- 
pared with the generality. I do not dispute that; but the 
husband to whom I shall be given, will be the man to 
whom I shall belong until death, and he must be above 
reproach. My feelings tell me that this Langenbach is 
not worthy to tie the shoe-strings of the man whom only 
I can and will marry!” 

11 


1G2 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

At these last words tears filled my eyes. The feeling 
of bitter, most atrocious injustice of which I was to be 
made a victim, the thought that a mother could show so 
litHe pity for a daughter, threatened to overcome me. 

“ You misjudge me, my child,” said my mother in a 
softer tone, “ I knew very well that you loved Herr 
von Radom. I told Hermann so. But he flew into a 
passion; he swore to me that Radom should not even 
touch his sister’s hand; that sooner than have such a 
thing happen, he would shoot him like a dog. He said 
that no one but Langenbach should become your hus- 
band, for he had given his word of honor, which, given 
by a Count von M., was inviolable.” 

“ Count von M. may give his word in matters which 
concern him,” cried I, drying my tears and rising hastily 
and proudly, ** but my word, not his, has to do with this.” 

“ But I, too, my child, am pledged,” said my mother, 
soothingly, and not only to the queen, who takes a 
great interest in this match, but to Langenbach himself; 
I can not withdraw any more than Hermann.” 

I formed a final resolution; like the hunted game 
which makes its last, desperate leap, I threw myself at 
my mother’s feet; I clung to her knees, I implored her 
for pity, for mercy, and sobbed aloud, burying my face 
in her lap. 

She laid her hand caressingly upon my head. She 
argued with me; but what she called “ reasoning,” only 
augmented my despair. 

She talked to me a long time. Her voice was soft and 
melodious, but what it said was far from affectionate. It 
was to this effect: that she could not help herself, this 
engagement had already been as good as announced by 
the queen at court; that between Hermann and Radom 
there existed an unconquerable dislike which might lead 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 163 

to the worst results; that I was unjust to Langenbach; 
that she thought him a kind-hearted, well-principled 
man in whom I Was mistaken, because, like all young 
men of position, he was a bon vivant^ whose one de- 
sire was to make me happy and renounce his fast life; 
finally that she, counting upon my submission, had given 
him full permission to speak to me on the morrow, though 
he would probably inform the princes and princesses of 
his good fortune that same day, and that she had thought 
it necessary to advise the Baron von Radom of it, as well, 
in a few polite lines. - . ^ 

Of what my mother said, I had only a general idea. 
My thoughts grew confused when she mentioned 
Radom’s name, and I was carried to my room almost 
unconscious. 


CHAPTER XX. 

The news of my engagement to Captain von Langen- 
bach was soon circulated about the town, and it was said 
that it would be made public as soon as I had recovered 
from an illness which I had contracted from a cold. 

Langenbach received his friends' congratulations with 
a happy smile, while Marquis de Chevreux sought in 
vain for an essence that would prevent the fainting fits 
which attacked him daily. 

The thought of being superseded by Langenbach af- 
fected the poor marquis so deeply that he even forgot to 
apply his cosmetics every morning to his face, upon which 
sorrow had left more furrows than time. 

Eight days after our supposed engagement, he had 
asked for a furlough, so as not to meet the mischievous 
glances of his acquaintances, who maintained that he 
still cherished secret hopes. 


164 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

Something in the report was true, for I was confined 
to my bed for eight days with nervous prostration, and if 
I speak of Chevreux here, notwithstanding my mood, it 
is because I am often ironical. 

My mother nursed me attentively, but her lips never 
uttered any words of comfort, which alone would have 
helped me to recover. 

The doctor visited me twice a day, and assured us that 
my strong constitution would pull me through. 

Very likely he had told my mother this at the begin- 
ning. As I heard later, she had been very much worried; 
she could -not rest; she took the greatest care not to pro- 
voke one of her attacks, and indeed, watched by my 
bed-side until late at night, when my condition seemed 
serious. 

The thought of Radom was always in my mind, in my 
delirium, and it must often have pained my mother, when 
I broke into sobs and prayed for death, so that my ex- 
citement got the better of the doctor’s exertions, and one 
relapse followed another. 

My maid tried all in her power to comfort me, but with 
all her good intentions, she had the opposite effect upon 
me. 

She daily brought me a few lines from Otto. I would 
press them secretly to my lips, hide and re-read them 
when I was alone. 

Of course this increased my excitement, and I only 
felt somewhat calmer when I had written a few words in 
pencil upon a paper in which I vowed again and again 
that I would only belong to him. 

My constitution gained the victory. 

After fourteen days I was able to leave my bed for 
hours, and my confidante thought she could give me, 
without any risk, some letters which the servant, who 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 165 

always received the mail from the postman, had given 
her for me. 

Pale- and enervated, I sat in my easy-chair, a mere 
shadow of what I had formerly been; discouraged and 
disconsolate, in spite of my determination, in spite of my 
intention to face all that they inflicted upon me. 

My hands trembled; I looked down upon them with a 
sad smile. 

My heart beat so feebly and my limbs felt so numb 
that I could scarcely stand upright. 

Two of the letters were unimportant. 

The third bore upon the envelope the printed name of 
my mother’s lawyer at S. 

News of Eugenie, of whom I had thought so little 
during my illness, but whose fate was now doubly inter- 
esting to me. 

It was a thick letter. 

I first drew out a paper which looked like a register, 
and covered four pages. 

My mother must not see it. So I was careful to quickly 
conceal the large sheets, in case I should be surprised. 

The lawyer, a kind old man, had inclosed in this paper " 
a note written by himself, in which he informed me that 
my protdgee had been taken before the magistrate; he 
had been admitted to her at once, as I had requested him 
to defend her. 

The enclosed papers contained her deposition, which 
was to me a very unexpected, surprising disclosure. 

As Eugenie had waited eight days in vain for my 
visit, she confessed to the attorney, she was seized with 
the fear that the little ready-money, which paid for her 
child’s support, would soon be exhausted, and that she 
would be without means. 

She had therefore decided to advertise in the news- 


166 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

paper in French for a position as companion or govern- 
ess. 

To this advertisement there had only been one answer. 
The lady gave no name, stated that she wanted a French 
companion, and asked her to call at her house at a certain 
hour upon a certain day. 

Delighted with the prospect of obtaining employment, 
Eugenie had repaired to the house, where she was re- 
ceived by a handsome, elegantly-attired young lady, 
whom she, to her astonishment, at once recognized. 

This lady was the same, whom Eugenie, upon her return 
to the Count von M.’s castle, had been obliged to serve as 
maid. 

This lady, whose name no one at the castle had known, 
had, accompanied by her mother, paid a week’s visit to 
my brother. They thought at the castle that she was a 
Frenchwoman; but Eugenie knew her to be a German, 
learned that the young count had made her acquaintance 
at Baden-Baden, and that he, as Eugenie had discovered 
from a letter found in one of her dresses, had invited her 
most cordially to visit him. 

As the envelope was missing, Eugenie did not know to 
whom it was addressed. 

The lovely lady had also recognized Eugenie at once. 
However, she collected herself and acted as if Eugenie 
were a perfect stranger to her. 

After a few short questions she dismissed her, with the 
promise that she would send her word the next day. 

Eugenie, when she left the lady, very much disappointed, 
and fearing that she would not obtain employment, looked 
for a door-plate or some means of finding out the name, 
but in vain; neither had she met any one in the house 
whom she might have asked. 

It was not likely, she told herself, that this lady would 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 167 

feel inclined to take a companion who had been a witness 
of her behavior when visiting the Count von M., who had 
seen her walking by the side of this cavalier, giving vent 
to her exuberant spirits, knowing herself to be free from 
all social restraint; submitting to the idyllic charm which 
she found in the young count’s company, with so much 
gaiety. 

In vain Eugenie next day awaited the promised answer. 
The second day, when she was just about to take new 
measures for obtaining a situation, a police officer ap- 
peared, charged her with deserting her husband and with 
theft, and that same evening took her to S., where she was 
placed under arrest. 

The letter was ten days old. The advocate added that 
he hoped to deliver my protegee from the hands of the 
law if nothing was found amongst her possessions that 
would implicate her. Unfortunately the accusation against 
her had come from the trustee of the castle, in conse- 
quence of the schoolmaster’s, her husband’s, denuncia- 
tion, who charged her with having stolen fifty guldens 
belonging to the parish. 

This accusation had been entered against her some 
time. The young Count von M. was one of the wit- 
nesses, and now the question was if the accused was inno- 
cent, of which he, the lawyer, was entirely convinced. 

* * * , * - * 

So the unfortunate girl, who had had so many trials, 
was not to be spared this! The suspicion of being a thief 
was to be attached to her by her tormentor, probably to 
throw off suspicion which might be directed against him, 
the truly guilty one! 

My confidence in Eugenie’s innocence and the lawyer’s 
powers comforted me in some measure, although I was 
grieved at the suffering the poor girl had to bear. 


168 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

But that same evening my hope, my trust, was to be 
destroyed. 

Again there came a letter from the lawyer, which, with 
a cry of anguish, I dropped from my hand. 

The lawyer informed me that, upon searching Eugenie’s 
effects, they had found the silver tinderbox belonging to 
the murdered forester. 

It had been identified by his family. There was no 
doubt about this corpus delicti^ for upon it was engraved 
the murdered man’s name. 

At her examination Eugenie had appeared very much 
embarrassed and confused; but she, however, asserted 
that she had found the box while walking in the 
woods. 

This circumstance, he said, was very suspicious. 

The box, which was known to have been in the man’s 
pocket when he was shot, had been most carefully 
sought in the woods, and on the scene of the crime. It 
could, therefore, only have been taken before, directly 
after, or at the time of the deed. 

The accused had undoubtedly been there before the 
body was found and taken away. If she were innocent, 
if the supposition was not true that she had an under- 
standing with the still unknown murderer, she would 
have, when she found this object, given it up, for the 
murdered man’s name was familiar to her; that she had 
concealed it was an evidence either of her accomplicity 
or of theft. 

The letter closed with the remark that the man whom 
they had taken into custody, they had set free, and were 
unaware of his whereabouts, but were searching for him, 
in order to confront him with the suspected girl. 

They expected important disclosures from this man, 
^or it was known in the village that the prisoner had 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 169 

often carried food and money to his family after he was 
arrested. 

I should hear more as soon as the trial was in 
progress. 

* » ♦ ♦ ♦ H« 

I was beside myself. Eugenie suspected of participa- 
tion in a murder! Eugenie in possession of that article 
which had been so carefully and vainly sought! Eugenie; 
such a gentle, innocent creature, connected with that 
murder! 

Although I, slowly convalescing, was in no condition 
to think coherently, I made an effort to recall all the 
facts of that terrible affair. 

Had not Eugenie’s timid, or rather, terror-stricken 
manner, her uneasiness, her nervousness, then struck me? 

Was she not directly after the murder seized with a 
kind of feverish ague? 

Did she not attempt to leave the room whenever the 
crime was mentioned? 

Did not the slightest sound startle her? Did she not 
cry out when she stood at the window and saw the man 
led away by the gens-d' armes2 

And — an hour afterward did she not take the miser- 
able man’s wife a sum of money which she could not 
possibly have saved up, while she told me that she had 
only given her a trifle, and at the same time besought 
me to interest my mother in them, so that the unhappy 
woman and her child should not starve? 

And that evening, when I came upon her asleep in her 
American rocking-chair, did she not mutter strange words, 
and appear startled and confused when, upon waking, 
she saw me before her— and did not I ascribe it all to 
her attempt at suicide, to her leap into the sea, and 
^think it only natural that it should affect her mind. 


170 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

What horrible secret was at the bottom of all this? 

Eugenie, I was certain, was not capable of theft, much 
less of a crime. She was too child-like, too pure, too 
original in her naive thoughts and feelings. 

She had never been able to inflict pain upon others, 
and would always much rather suffer herself than harm 
another. 

At that time — I now looking back upon it saw clearer 
than I did then — the first change took place in her. But 
that was so easily accounted for, for from that time her 
troubles commenced. From that time Eugenie was the 
prey, the butt of adversities, which chased away all 
innocence of her childish heart. 

My mother may have been right when she laid all the 
blame to her, at any rate the greater part of it fell upon 
her — but how was it possible that she could be even 
remotely connected with this crime. What justified her 
excessive sympathy for that abandoned man? 

She had told me — I still remembered her very words— 
that she could not hear that bloody deed spoken of with- 
out a shudder, and I had always felt the same, anxious 
and uneasy. But at the same time she had the courage, 
which I had not, to seek out the man’s family, while all 
the villagers were fleeing from them as from a pestilence. 

I then admired her for her humanity, and others 
joined me in that admiration, and now — now came this 
elucidation, or rather obscurity, which was striving for 
the light. 

Vainly did I rack my brain after the receipt of that 
letter, to think of anything in Eugenie’s manner after 
our departure from the castle, that had the faintest 
reference to this misdeed. 

Eugenie had certainly changed very much and to such 
a degree, that I, for the first time, had occasion to find 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 171 

fault with her. She was possessed by a love for my 
brother, which she looked upon as a sin against herself. 
She saw in herself the victim of a young man who de- 
spised all humane feelings. She had become such by the 
joint influence of her fear of him and her weakness for 
him. 

She, an orphan in a strange land, was entirely depend- 
ent upon my mother’s bounty; she saw that the latter 
trembled before her son, and she did not dare, intimi- 
dated by his threats, to make any complaints to her; so 
she suffered, she bore with his rudeness, was silently the 
object of his persecution and cruelty. Finally she sought 
relief in suicide, but was brought back to life. 

From that time she had been changed. 

Keen as her perception had always been, she must 
have felt that my mother had learned of the ill-nature 
which Hermann in almost boyish petulance had vented 
upon her, the defenseless girl. My mother was too proud 
for Eugenie to dare, unasked, to breathe a word in her 
justification. She also gathered from my mother’s man- 
ner, which grew more and more abrupt and commanding, 
that her mistress who had been so kind and good to her 
in her childhood, and to whom she was truly grateful, 
looked upon her as the guilty one, that her opinion was 
that Eugenie had dared to raise her eyes to her son; so 
the relations between the two had become strained, and 
Eugenie sought to break the tie altogether, for her feel- 
ings were hurt at being judged unjustly. 

Her heart was filled with defiance, and yet with grati- 
tude for all the kindness we had shown her, and she 
rushed out into the world into the arms of her tormentor^ 
who degraded her to the position of maid to a stranger 
and then 

Who was this stranger? This question crossed my 


172 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

mind. She must have had something to do with Eu- 
genie’s arrest, had evidently been the cause of it. 

She must belong to a class of society which commanded 
her to keep her distance from a person whose indiscretion 
she might fear. She must still sustain relations with my 
brother, and at her wish, only to save her in the eyes of 
the world and from the consequences of her frivolity, 
which perhaps had only been a youthful indiscretion, he 
had not hesitated to deliver up the girl, whom he had 
already made so miserable, to an ignoble fate. 

He, who had troubled himself so little, I might say, not 
at all about his large estates, lowered himself to accom- 
plish the speedy ruin of a poor creature who, by her mar- 
riage, had become his subject! 

What could I do to help Eugenie! 

I forgot my own sorrow in thinking of hers. I would 
write the lawyer that I was fully convinced of Eugenie’s 
innocence. But of what avail would that be? 

The lawyer wrote that she maintained that she had 
found the fatal object and had not noticed the name 
engraved upon it, at least it had not occurred to her that 
it was that of the murdered man. 

That scarcely seemed credible to me. I knew that 
Eugenie had known the young man, knew that she had 
often visited the forester’s daughter, and knew also that 
she was present when we heard that they had looked in 
vain for the silver tinder-box. 

And she declared that she had never heard anything 
about it! Eugenie had told a falsehood! 

Of course, that perplexed me, still I felt positive that 
Eugenie was innocent. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


173 


CHAPTER XXI. 

Several days had elapsed. I had left the sick-room. 

Although I took little interest in the outer world, I sat 
in my mother’s room and looked at the golden prisms on 
the sea. 

I felt as cold and dead as it looked outside; only the 
sun was wanting which was shining so magnificently on 
the world. 

And yet, since morning a beam lit up my soul. I must 
see Radom and speak with him. The gloom about me, 
the silence at my fate, had become unbearable. His letters 
did .not suffice me; I longed for him. 

That evening I should see hinL My mother was going 
to the Opera, after having spent several weeks at home 
with me. Her maid had permission to go out, while her 
mistress was absent, the man-servant was ill, and Radom 
could visit me unseen. 

For the first time I ventured upon a rendezvous, the 
culpability of wffiich I was aware of. But no regard for 
the proprieties, no fear of doing wrong, no apprehension 
of any kind, should hinder me. 

Since my recovery my mother had been graver; she 
spoke little, and had thoughts which disturbed her. She 
was much distressed, but sought to hide it. 

perhaps her maternal love was struggling with the other 
influences which had been brought tg bear upon her and 
prevented her deciding, or perhaps she was conscious of 
her own weakness. 

I noticed this in the searching glances which rested 


174 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

upon me, when she knew that my weary eyes were turned 
in another direction. 

§he now sat at the other window in the sitting-room, 
separated from me by a projection in the wall and a con- 
sole. She was deep in her book, while I was looking aim- 
lessly and drearily into the street, feeling very wretched. 

Noon caine. The bright sunshine had enticed many 
carriages on to the drive before our villa. 

I saw several families, with whom we were niore or less 
acquainted, pass by; saw my friends — what else could I 
call them? — drive along so gaily, saw them nod to us, to 
show their delight at my recovery. 

They were all happy; they took pleasure in the gay 
sunshine. I should have envied them, had I not in the 
midst of my pain felt proud and happy in my love for 
the man who was at once my joy and my despair. 

“Hermann!” suddenly cried my mother, half rising 
from her seat and looking out. 

For weeks I had not seen him. He had not troubled 
himself about my illness, for I never was anything to 
him. I heard, however, that he had visited my mother 
once in the meantime. 

Her joyous exclamation at the sight of him, did not 
affect me. Indifferently I turned to the street, but was 
unpleasantly agitated by that which had so delighted my 
mother. 

Hermann rode by on his favorite horse, a proud, mag- 
nificent Andalusian sorrel, a universally admired ani- 
mal, that shone like gold in the pale light of the sun, 
that shook its mane coquettishly, and careered smartly 
over the snow. 

It was a small cavalcade. Next him rode Stephanie 
von Ebersburg, and next her Langenbach, who bowed to 
my mother and me, smiling significantly, while Stephanie 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 175 

greeted us with her usual sweet smile and made her 
jennet curvet. 

Hermann, who wished to mold me to his will, paid ifs 
attentions to this person openly, without caring v$hat the 
general opinion was. He, who treated every other 
woman contemptuously, seemed really the slave of this 
beauty, about whom the ladies were repeating strange 
stories, which were in no way to her credit. 

And Langenbach, his Pylades, to whom he had 
recently given his finest horse as a present — I shuddered 
when I saw the intimacy between these two, a friendship 
which caused me such misery. 

The three passed by; they were followed by Her- 
mann’s shaggy Siberian grayhound and two grooms; for 
when Hermann appeared in public it was always as 
grand seigneur ^ and his retinue had to be faultless. 

I envied my brother, who did as he liked, without pay- 
ing any heed to the world’s opinion, while I, his sister, 
was obliged to regulate my miserable life according to 
the laws laid down by those belonging to me. 

The friendship of those three made me uncomfortable. 
I had concluded never to mention my brother to my 
mother, so as not to collide with her. When the cavalcade 
had passed, I therefore remained silent. 

The Ebersburg seems to be a born horsewoman,” I 
heard my mother say in a few minutes. I have seldom 
seen an Amazon who sat so perfectly in the saddle. I 
can comprehend why she is so dangerous to young men, 
she is wonderfully beautiful.” 

“Yes, she is!” I assented, almost inaudibly. 

“ Still I do not like it that Hermann is so fascinated.” 

So my mother was not altogether easy about this re- 
lation which was so universally talked of in the Resi- 
dence, .. . 


176 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

“ Hermann is surely capable of taking care of himself. 
And yet, perhaps, he is too young to guard himself 
against such dangerous beauty. Probably she is judged 
unjustly; it may be envy that causes people to talk so 
against her. As far as I can tell, her mother is a very 
nice lady, even if Baroness Pulbach has heard of certain 
things in the Ebersburg family, which she only tries to 
use in the interests of her own daughter, who, like all 
young ladies, has a great liking for Hermann.” 

My mother was happy when she could speak of the 
admiration which the ladies' entertained for Hermann. 

“ So much the less should it be taken amiss if the 
Baroness shares this admiration.” 

“ Hm, yes! But at times I fear she is more dangerous 
than the others. I wanted to warn Hermann yesterday, 
but he cut me short.” 

Had I then spoken a word against Baroness Ebersburg, 
my mother would have immediately taken her part. 

I did not care to continue the conversation, and had 
just risen to get a book, when another noise in the street 
attracted my attention. 

Great God, mother! Look Baroness Ebersburg! 

Hermann!” 1 cried out. 

I saw the baroness, encircled by Hermann’s arm, being 
borne toward our house, followed by Langenbach and a 
servant. 

My mother, too, sprang up. 

“ An accident!” cried she, hurrying to the door, and on 
the way ringing the bell violently, in order to call the 
servants. 

At first I did not know whether to follow or not. Langen- 
bach’s proximity frightened me and rooted me to the spot. 
However, I collected myself and stepped to the door of 
the next room. As I reached the threshold, I saw Her- 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 177 

mann’s tall, herculean form, bearing the Countess Ebers- 
burg in his arms, enter the other door. 

“It was a fall from her horse, mother!” cried he; “the 
doctor must be summoned quickly.” 

With which he placed his lovely burden tenderly upon 
a divan. 

“Langenbach,” he called out, “tell George to mount 
his horse and go for the doctor at once!” 

Hermann then locked the door so that Langenbach 
would not be tempted to enter, at the same time turning 
to his mother for assistance. The chambermaid and an- 
other maid hurried to her side. They both understood 
at a glance from my mother what had taken place and 
what was required of them; they approached the divan 
to assist the injured girl, who just then uttered a cry of 
pain, while Hermann politely, but very much agitated, 
walked to the window and looked out, in order not to see 
what the women were doing. 

The tramping of horses attracted my attention. I saw 
Langenbach with the servant, George, spring into their 
saddles. Langenbach was probably going to town to call 
the doctor himself. 

In the meantime Stephanie von Ebersburg had regained 
consciousness, and before she knew where she was, she 
called out “ Hermann!” ^ 

Had I had any doubts as to the intimate relations 
between the two, this cry would have been sufficient to 
prove it to me. 

I saw a cloud upon my mother’s brow. The women 
were so busy, however, attending to the girl, that Her- 
mann, perceiving his presence to be indelicate, had with- 
drawn to the next room. 

Stephanie’s accident had completely unnerved me. Our 
doctor happened to come in to see me on his way by, 

12 


178 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

He said there was only a sprained ankle, which he set, 
in spite of Stephanie’s cries. 

Hermann then left and returned in his carriage, to 
take Stephanie to her home. 

He remained half an hour with my mother, while I 
sought my room. Very likely I was the subject of their 
conversation. I had no doubt offended my lord brother 
by my want of sympathy for Stephanie, and his displeas- 
ure at this would, I expected, be shown by his redoubled 
efforts in his friend Langenbach’s cause. 

It was utterly impossible for me to take anything but 
a lukewarm interest in Stephanie. As I saw her lying 
upon the divan, I was involuntarily seized with a thought 
which startled me. 

Who could it have been but her, who had delivered 
Eugenie over to justice! 

It was strange that I had not thought of that at once. 
Stephanie and Hermann were old acquaintances, I had 
heard. They had certainly met at one of the bathing 
resorts; that I had known, without attaching any impor- 
tance to it. 

I was seized with a contempt for her at this thought. 
The rumors concerning her now seemed to be warrant- 
able. What a nature it would take to betray so unmerci- 
fully such a wretched creature as Eugenie! 

Were there not other means by which she might have 
been silenced? 

Again my brother stood before me in all his hardness. 
Eugenie had ventured to reappear upon the scene. She, 
now his subject, his slave, must be gotten rid of without 
delay; so he hatched up this story about her to satisfy 
the demands of the court and the wishes of Stephanie, 
who might have been compromised by her presence! 

There was a certain fatality which threw this much-tOr 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 1?9 

be-pitied girl into the hands of him who" had been her 
persecutor from a boy. He who had already destroyed 
her happiness, was also to banish her from decent so- 
ciety, and to make of her a criminal, by means of this 
false accusation. 


CHAPTER XXH. 

Evening arrived. My mother went to the theatre. I 
felt as if I were committing a wrong, but did not every- 
thing combine to cause me to do so? 

My maid had been instructed to receive Radom and 
conduct him to me. In a simple house-dress I awaited 
him in my sitting-room. 

My heart beat anxiously; the least sound in the quiet 
house made me tremble. 

At last I heard the house door. open. I heard a creak- 
ing upon the stairs and the sound of footsteps upon the 
floor, then I was in Radom’s arms. 

A blissful hour flew by. 

Radom was pale and nervous, owing to the excitement 
under which he had been laboring. He shook his head' 
sadly upon seeing me so grieved. We tried to delude 
ourselves with false hopes; we tried to encourage one 
another, still we knew how little encouragement had 
been given us. 

I could not resist reproaching him for having treated 
my brother so coldly from the beginning, for not having 
tried to be civil to him for my sake. 

I attributed our entire misfortune to the fact that he 
had helped Captain von Langenbach to obtain an influ- 
ence over my brother, which was so fatal to our hopes. 

Radom looked darkly before him. 


180 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART, 

I thought I should now be able to learn the secret of 
the antipathy which existed between him and my brother. 
I pressed his hand. 

“Otto,” cried I, beseechingly,” be frank with mel I 
feel, 1 know, that something must have taken place 
between you to make you such enemies! Tell the truth! 
You owe it to me!” 

A striking change passed over his face. He forced a 
smile. 

“ Nothing happened between him and me,” he an- 
swered, looking me full in the face. 

“ Can I take your word for it; will you swear it to me?” 

“Yes.” 

Then their mutual dislike was merely instinctive. I 
again reproached him for not using more policy. 

Otto was silent for a time. 

“Undoubtedly you are right,” he answered, pushing 
back his hair with a sigh. “ But there is an invisible force 
in us mortals which will not be biased. I swear to you 
that I have tried to fight against it with all my might, and 
should have succeeded, had he not treated me in such a 
way, on your account, as to raise the demon in me again. 
In spite of that I have not been anything but civil to 
him, as far as lay in my power; but since Captain von 
Langenbach exercises such influence over him, since he 
has been setting him against me, I have been obliged to 
avoid him at the club, to keep my distance as politely as 
possible, for I have seen him several times, egged on by 
Langenbach, on the point of insulting me in public. 
For some time I avoided the club; but now the presence 
of one of my old associates. Sir Arthur Wardley, com- 
pels me to go there again. I know that he has dared to 
make remarks about me at court, which were intended to 
bring about my removal. I can see that upon the slight- 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 181 

est provocation he would not hesitate to insult me, and 
the thought of it makes me tremble for my sake and 
yours!” 

Radom’s face again grew dark. I knew only too well 
that he judged my brother correctly; that Hermann, 
aggravated by Langenbach, could easily forget himself, 
and should he do so, it would destroy all the hope that 
we had entertained. 

As love is inventive, I suggested that Otto should 
find an excuse to leave town for a short time, in order 
to avoid my brother. 

He could not at first make up his mind to leave me 
alone with my mother and brother. 

‘‘You then consider me weak!” cried I, with a bitter 
smile. “ Do not fear! I swear to you by all that is 
holy, by my love for you, that this heart, this hand shall 
never be given to anyone but you! — are you satisfied 
now?” 

Otto fell at my feet, gratefully covering my hands with 
kisses. He promised to do as I wished, on the condition 
that I would send him a few lines daily. In two days, 
he said, he would leave the Residence with Sir Arthur 
and remain away two weeks. 

We separated after again solemnly plighting our vows. 
He had scarcely gone, when my mother, who had been 
taken ill, returned home, sooner than I had expected. 

The next morning she asked me a question which I 
knew had been on her mind for some time. 

She desired to know, now that I had fully recovered, 
when I would receive Langenbach, and upon what day our 
engagement would take place. Hermann, she added, had 
the day before, expressed his desire to have the matter 
settled, and she could no longer delay in carrying out the 
promise she had given the queen. 


182 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

With the greatest composure I received this question. 

“You know, dear mother,” I answered, with the confi- 
dence which had inspired me since I had pledged my 
word to Radom, “ you know how difficult it will be for 
me to disobey your wishes for the first time, but much 
more difficult, yes, utterly impossible, would it be for me to 
obey you. Until now I have been an obedient daughter, 
and am now, although I do not seem to be. It is not your 
will that demands obedience from me in this affair, which 
will determine my happiness, but my brother’s, and this 
will I fearlessly disobey. Therefore, I declare to you 
and my brother, who never has experienced for me a 
particle of that love which is a sister’s due, that I have 
made my decision — that my heart and hand are given to 
Baron Otto von Radom, and that I would rather renounce 
society, even my life, than him!” 

After this declaration I arose. I approached my 
mother and tried to take her hand, which she drew away. 
I then threw myself at her feet, clung to her implor- 
ingly, but when I looked up, it was into a very stern 
face. 

In vain I appealed to her maternal heart. In vain I 
recalled to her how dear I had been to her before this 
estrangement, when she submitted to her son’s tyranny; 
her son who had always cared as little for her as he did 
for me. My tears wer« useless. 

She did not speak, and as often as I looked at her, I 
met the same stern, repellent gaze. 

“ Go to your room!” 

Those were the only words she had for me. 

My injured pride, the consciousness of the rejection 
of my filial love, made me rebel. I sprang up and left 
the room. 

That day I dined alone, for toward noon my mother 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 183 

had driven out, and had left word with the servants that 
she would not return until evening. 

Not feeling able to taste a morsel, I sat in my room. 
My thoughts were with Otto, and now my only care was 
that something might happen to him. 

Not a line did I receive from him that livelong day, 
and yet I had expected a note, for the next day he was 
to leave town. 

That evening I was very lonesome. I tried to over- 
come my anxiety by writing to Otto — a long, long letter, 
with an account of what had taken place that day, and 
with renewed assurances that my oath was inviolable. 

Night came, a long winter’s night. I could not sleep. 
My maid told me that my mother had been ill, and had 
retired early. 

The next morning passed without bringing me any 
news from Otto. I sent my letter to him. 

Even at noon I had not heard from him. 

My mother was invisible. I was a prisoner in my 
room. What had taken her to town the day before? 

Through the butler my maid had learned that before 
going out, in fact, immediately after I left her, she had 
written a letter, which a servant had taken to my brother. 
Without doubt she had informed him of what had passed 
between us. 

I could picture to myself my brother’s rage. He, who 
had given his word of honor that I should become 
Langenbach’s wife, now knew that I had secretly pledged 
myself to Baron von Radom, and all his anger would 
naturally be turned against him. 

Danger threatened Otto. 

Hermann and Langenbach would execrate him, would 
be revenged upon him, for he stood in their way. 

My brother saw his authority over me spurned, and 


184 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

Langenbach was compromised. He had accepted con- 
gratulations, and had in his vanity made himself ridicu- 
lous. 

How pleased I was that I had advised Radom to go 
away for a time. It would be best so. In the meantime 
Hermann’s anger would cool, and Langenbach would 
become reconciled to the inevitable. 

Still no news from Otto. The afternoon was gone, 
and it grew dark. 

Then suddenly I received a shock. 

The butler had told my maid, who told me, that the 
evening before at the club the young Count von M., in 
the presence of a number of the members, without any 
provocation, had called Otto a “villain.” Baron von 
Radom, who, with an Englishman, had come to take his 
supper at the club, had immediately left with his friend, 
and the count had called after him mockingly. 

Entirely crushed by this information, and worried by 
the thought of what the result might be, I fainted, and 
upon recovering, buried my face in my hands to shut out 
the bloody scene which arose before me. 

During the evening not a line came for me. 

My anxiety increased, and my breath was labored on 
account of the violent pulsations of my heart. 

Suddenly my mother rushed into my room deathly 
pale. 

“ My son! — where is my son, my proud, handsome 
son?” cried she, shrilly, extending her arms toward 
Heaven. After uttering these words she fell to the floor 
unconscious, before I, in my terror, could catch her. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


185 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

I passed the night at my mother’s bed-side; a long, 
painful night, during which our servants were kept busy, 
and which required the attendance for hours of our 
family physician. 

My mother’s condition seemed to cause him serious 
anxiety. Her old trouble had been aggravated by excite- 
ment. 

She had severe nervous attacks during the night, and 
when she came to herself, she cried for her son, wished 
to jump up, and could not be quieted. 

I was so wrought up that my strength gave out. 

As yet I had no tidings from Radom. I sent to Her- 
mann’s lodgings. The servants said that the count had 
not yet returned; he had gone away the day before with 
his groom without leaving any orders; they thought that 
he had gone to his castle. 

I sent also to Radom’s apartments, and received a 
much more disquieting report from there. 

Baron von Radom, they said, had dismissed his serv- 
ants, closed his rooms, and driven to the station with his 
portmanteau. 

There was no doubt but that they had both a bloody 
rencontre in view. The insult, which Radom had re- 
ceived from my brother, must be expiated. Radom 
would be considered cowardly, did he not demand satis- 
faction. 

It had been some time since their departure, the most 
dreadful things might have happened. Surely the news 


186 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

of the result must have arrived, but — from whom could I 
find it out. 

In town the story passed from mouth to mouth that 
Count von M. and the counselor of the embassy, Baron 
von Radom, had left home, to meet one another in a cer- 
tain place. They told of . my brother’s insult to Radom 
at the club; they undoubtedly censured the former, for 
Radom had many friends; they ornamented the incident 
with the most wonderful details; as I heard later, they 
even reported that same evening that Radom had shot 
Count von M., while others maintained to the contrary. 

My mother first learned of the whole terrible affair 
when a person arrived from court to find out the partic- 
ulars from her. 

She had not the slightest suspicion of what had taken 
place, and fainted in the presence of the chamberlain who 
had come to her for information. When she regained 
consciousness, she asked him to tell her what had 
happened, and he, embarrassed at being the first to 
bring her the news, told her with all the care that he 
could, that the entire court was much excited, that the 
king himself had given orders to find out what route 
they had taken, to follow and arrest them in his name, in 
order to prevent any rash act. 

In her fear for the safety of her son, she had rushed 
into my room and fallen into a condition in which she 
was wildly delirious all night. 

For my mother’s sake I made an effort. I overcame 
my own suspense about my loved one, I tried to be 
brave, and told myself that many duels had taken place 
without serious results. But when I had consoled myself 
on that point, the misery of the future obtruded itself 
upon me. 

Radom and my brother were sworn enemies — was it 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 187 

likely that a reconciliation would take place, even if 
the affair were settled, and what would then become of 
me? 

O! that night! that terrible night! 

Had it been day I might perhaps have diverted my 
thoughts by some work. As it was, there was nothing 
to do but to wring my hands, and to send out mes- 
sengers every half-hour to ask at the lodgings of both, 
and at the club as well, if any news had arrived. 

Some consolation was given me, when, late in the even- 
ing, the same chamberlain drove up to our door, to 
announce to us from the king that the telegraph was 
being operated in every direction, in order to hunt up 
the rivals, the police had sent their cleverest officials 
after them, and everything was arranged to avoid any 
misfortune. 

I hastened to the chamberlain myself with trembling 
limbs and tear-stained face, for my mother was in no 
condition to receive him. 

I asked for Langenbach, for the young English diplo- 
matist, with whom for the past few days Radom had 
been continually, and with whom he was said to be very 
intimate. 

The chamberlain shrugged his shoulders. 

Captain von Langenbach had asked the prince for 
leave of absence for twenty-four hours; the prince had 
granted it to him without any misgiving; now Langen- 
bach was nowhere to be found, although they had heard 
at the station, that Count von M. had departed accom- 
panied only by his groom. 

The Englishman, Sir Arthur Wardley, had also been 
sought in vain. He had settled his bill and set off, no 
one knew where to. 

Langenbach’s leave, the chamberlain added, had 


188 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

expired that evening; he would without doubt return 
in the night or early the next morning. The prince had 
placed some one in Langenbach’s rooms, who was to 
announce his arrival at once. In the morning we should 
have positive news, if the telegraph did not inform us in 
the night of their having found and arrested both men, 
according to the king’s strict order. 

So the night passed slowly, second after second. All 
was quiet; no message came, and my fear almost drove 
me mad. 

My mother’s piercing cries rent the air when she 
awoke from the stupefaction occasioned by the strain 
upon her nerves. 

She called for Hermann. She wanted to jump out 
of my bed, in which she had been placed. She tore 
her hair, and tortured my weary heart anew when, 
in her despair, she cursed the innocent Radom, called 
him her son’s murderer, and called down God’s venge- 
ance upon him. My only resource was to take refuge 
in a lie to prevent my mother from losing her mind. 

My maid was to bring the news that Radom and Her- 
mann had been arrested before the duel was fought. 

Then my mother sank back upon her pillows with a 
sigh which came from the depths of her agonized heart, 
and fell into a sleep almost like death. 

I had succeeded in quieting her, but I dreaded her 
awakening; I dreaded the morning, which would bring 
matters to a head. 

Again second after second, minute after minute passed 
by. One hour followed another slowly. Sleep would 
not come to my eyes, and when, exhausted, I leaned back 
in my chair,, my chin upon my breast, the slightest sound 
startled me. 

During this terribly long and miserable night, a per- 


189 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

plexity was raging within me, which rendered my mind 
a chaos, and would not allow me to form any clear ideas. 

I did not expect that the king’s measures and the 
exertions of the police would be able to prevent the 
catastrophe. I could easily calculate what a start the 
two must have had. Vain seemed to me, therefore, all 
attempts to prevent the duel. 

Both were dear to me, very dear. A sister’s duty and 
a natural feeling of affection, which only possessed me 
now that I knew my brother to be in the greatest danger, 
forced me to whisper soft, timid prayers for his deliver- 
ance, for my mother’s life depended upon his. 

At the same time love was praying for the life of 
another — for a life upon which mine depended. 

Which of the two would return? 

My thoughts carried me to the bloody scene. I saw 
Hermann lying upon the ground shot through the breast. 
I shuddered. I covered my face with both hands. 
Then again I heard Hermann’s familiar, mocking laugh. 
I started. I thought I heard his footsteps, saw him 
enter, and in his heartlessness relate to my mother what 
had taken place between him and Radom. 

A memory from my early youth occurred to me which 
greatly increased my anguish and bathed my brow in a 
cold perspiration. 

Just as my brother now, so had my father once sacri- 
ficed for a trifle, with a gallant’s cold composure, the life 
of a friend. But Hermann and Radom had not been 
friendly from the first; between them there had always 
existed an irreconcilable aversion, and if now one of 
them had been killed, would not another victim fall at 
the same time; either my mother or I? 

What a strange repetition of events, that the son, like 
his father, should use a weapon to destroy so dear a life! 


190 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

And was not this fatal similarity a guarantee that this 
duel would terminate in a like manner? 

This certainty augmented my despair. I sobbed aloud. 
Even the fear of awakening my mother did not suffice 
to soften the outburst of my grief. I must weep and cry 
aloud; my strength was exhausted. 

He ^ ^ 

When I awoke, I heard my mother call my name. I sat 
up in my chair. I shivered. I tried to collect my thoughts, 
looked about me as if awakening from a confused dream, 
and saw a maid sitting by my mother’s bed-side. 

It was so dreary, so miserable in the room! 

The lamp diffused a faint, melancholy light, which 
threw pale, gray streaks upon the tapestry curtains at the 
window. Only the clock upon the mantel-piece ticked 
busily. It struck seven. It was morning! 

Morning! A shudder ran through me as I thought of 
the terrible significance of this morning. The whole 
horror of our situation appeared to me. Several minutes 
I stood there, my face buried in my hands, without the 
courage to look upon the already fast dawning day. 

A noise in the room attracted my attention. 

It was the maid, who arose from my mother’s bed-side 
and approached me. 

I grasped her arm and drew her into a corner. 

‘‘ I have been asleep,” whispered I to her. I could 

sleep; I can not understand how it was possible Tell 

me, has any news been received?” 

The woman shook her head sadly, put her finger to her 
lips, and pointed to my mother, who seemed to be dozing. 

Then I remembered the falsehood, by means of which 
I had quieted her. 

Anxiously I drew the maid through the door into the 
next room. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 191 

Still no news.?” I asked again. 

I tried to read her face, but it was as troubled and 
weary as mine, for she had been up all night, awaiting 
my maid, who was to relieve her. 

“ The count’s valet was here again an hour ago to tell 
us that he did not go to bed at all last night, so that he 
would be able to bring us any news that might come. 
But up to now no message has arrived, neither has Cap- 
tain von Langenbach returned.” 

So day had dawned, and still no decisive news; perhaps 
this day, too, would leave us in the same uncertainty. 

What should we say to my mother when she awoke? 
What should I do to carry on this untruth, which might 
so easily be'found out! Doubly hard did I consider my 
position, for I looked upon myself as the only person 
aware of this bloody secret. 

As I entered my room disconsolately, I again heard my 
mother’s faint voice. 

Has Hermann returned?” 

“ No, mamma!” 

“ Send to his apartments and inquire.” 

“ His valet was just here to tell us that he awaited his 
master’s arrival all night, but he had not come!” 

“The good man! Hermann must reward him.” 

My mother again fell into a doze. 

What happened from early morning until noon, I 
scarcely knew. I was in a state of confusion, which I 
might almost call a trance. 

I saw, it is true, that it was day, that the sun at 
times cast its rays upon the terrace. I saw my mother 
raise herself. I heard that she spoke to me, and under- 
stood that Hermann was the subject of her talk. 

I saw, as I lay in my chair, our physician step up to 


192 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

me, take my j^iand in his, and heard his voice.; but what 
he said, I did not understand. 

Then I knew nothing more, and toward noon I sank 
into a deep sleep, succumbing to my weariness. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

The darkest and strangest rumors were afloat in the 
town, without penetrating our abode. 

Captain von Langenbach was said to have returned 
home at noon, but — alone. 

They reported that he had immediately repaired to 
the prince, who had driven with him to the king to beg 
for an audience, which was granted them. 

Sir Arthur Wardley was said to have arrived an hour 
later — alone. 

He got out at his hotel, and went to Baron von 
Radom’s rooms, to which he had the key. 

We heard of the arrival of both, but nothing further. 
My mother was easy about Hermann, but I, alas, had no 
means of consolation. 

Before the winter evening closed in, I heard a carriage 
drive up. 

I rushed to the window. 

Herr von Langenbach got out of the carriage and 
hurried into the house. 

How I descended the stairs, I do not know. I met 
him in the ante-room. He was pale — very pale. His 
features betrayed a strong tension, and his whole man- 
ner a certain solemnity. 

Before I could address him, my mother opened the 
door of the small drawing-room. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 193 

“ Captain von Langenbach!” cried she, with delight. 
“ You at last bring me news of my son!” 

Langenbach started at my mother’s smiling counte- 
nance. I felt as if I should fall to the ground, for I knew 
what his strange behavior meant. 

I wished to motion to him, to whisper to him, but he 
was too much agitated to notice me. 

“ Where is Hermann? Have you brought him with 
you?” asked my mother. 

Langenbach was speechless. 

“ No — o! gracious countess!” was finally his hesitating 
answer. 

“ Where is he?” cried my mother, surprised. “ They told 
me they had succeeded in preventing that terrible duel!” 

Langenbach was embarrassed. He had probably 
decided upon what he would say beforehand, but my 
mother’s questions upset him. 

Speak, Herr von Langenbach, I pray you! They 
have deceived me; I can tell by your face! Tell me the 
truth! You see, I am strong enough to hear you! For 
God’s sake! are there no true friends in this world?” 

With that my mother laid her hand on his arm and 
looked sharply and searchingly into his face. 

“ Something has happened to Hermann. I can read 
it in your eyes! The truth! the truth!” cried my 
mother. 

“ Dear countess,” stammered Langenbach, “ I assure 
you I was not present; but it is not improbable that the 
result of the duel was not entirely satisfactory ” 

“Hermann is dead!” screamed my mother, and sank 
upon the floor with a piercing cry of anguish. 

The servants hurried in. They carried her to the divan. 
I had been standing there, supporting myself against a 
chair, with a. deathly countenance and trembling limbs. 

13 


194 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

I do not know how I retained my presence of mind. 
Perhaps the thought that Radom was alive had some 
effect upon me. 

Whilst my mother was being carried out I seized 
Langenbach’s arm. 

“ Herr von Langenbach!” cried I, in a scarcely audible 
voice, “ Tell me! is my brother dead? Tell me, so that I 
may know how to comfort my mother, or for what I have 
to prepare her!” 

Langenbach could not evade me. 

I can remember yet that he looked at me with a kind 
of triumph. 

He bent down to my ear. 

“ There is no doubt but that at this moment he is 

already ” Langenbach hesitated here, but I heard no 

more. 

I fell back upon the chair. 

Yet once again I had the strength to rise. In spite of 
the mist which gathered before my eyes, I saw Lan- 
genbach still standing there. 

I staggered up. I grasped his arm. 

“ More! — tell me more!” cried I, as another agonized 
cry reached us from the next room. 

“For your comfort, dearest countess, I may add that 
Baron von Radom is alive!” 

Langenbach said this in a sarcastic, malicious tone. 
Even my mother’s condition did not prompt him to spare 
me. I could not see him, for my eyes filled with tears. 
I heard his footsteps. I groped about with my hand to 
find him — he was gone. 

Radom my brother’s murderer! That was the dagger 
which Langenbach had planted in my heart; that was 
the only idea of which I was capable, and that was so 
terrible that I again lost my consciousness. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


195 


CHAPTER XXV. 

Eight days had flown, eight days full of terror and 
sadness, days which supplied the immediate means of a 
horrible drama. 

Exhausted and tired of life, I sat by my mother’s bed- 
side. Our house was deserted. No one passed by without 
casting an awe-struck glance at it. Society pitied us, but 
its sympathy was mixed with a horror like that which 
possesses one on a place of execution. 

Society knows no true, pure compassion. On a joyful 
occasion, it is not free from envy and malice. On .a 
sorrowful occasion, it must consider its own nerves. 

It came on foot and in carriages to inquire for us, 
to express its sympathy in due, conventional form; but 
this form was a nuisance to me, for it kept the servants 
busy continually. Our door-bell announced its calls, and 
when that was silent, we knew that society had fulfilled 
its duty toward us. 

The court and the prince’s household had shown us 
the required respect; and now that it had grown omi- 
nously quiet I sat, like an animated corpse, by my 
mother’s bed-side. 

My blood congeals as I write down the events of that 
day. 

There lay my mother, reduced almost to a skeleton, 
and up to this time she had not heard all. 

When she had become conscious, they told her that 
her son was seriously wounded, but they hoped to save 
him, they even thought they would be pretty certain 
of it. 


196 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

The doctor considered her in a very grave condition, 
for her old trouble had been dangerously aggravated. 
As I urgently begged to be told whether to hope or 
fear, the doctor assured me that I might hope. 

I know what he wished to say. 

1 was not sufficiently recovered to be able to nurse 
my mother. Sleepless nights and the excitement of days 
had almost made me ill again; still that night I had to 
watch by her side. 

The doctor had used every means in his power to keep 
further intelligence from us. 

All that I knew was, that probably Hermann had fallen, 
that Radom was living, and my brother’s murderer. 

As such, was he not dead to me? Though he had 
been forced to direct his weapon against Hermann, he 
was still his murderer; he had broken the bonds which 
had until now indissolubly united us. 

I entreated the doctor, who was the only person that 
entered the sick-room, to tell me more of what had 
happened. 

He shook his head; he maintained that he knew 
nothing except that my brother had been seriously 
wounded. 

I thought that Hermann was dead! 

I begged him to tell me if they had brought his 
corpse. He shrugged his shoulders; he gave me his 
word that the corpse had not arrived, and told me 
that I might believe the truth of his statement that Her- 
mann had only been wounded and could not be moved. 

My mind was in such an agonized state, that I felt as 
if I must rush into the street and ask the first passer-by 
if he knew anything about my brother’s fate. 

I longed for certainty, but owing to the strict seclusion 
in which the doctor held us, no one dared satisfy me. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 197 

“Truth! truth!” was echoing within me. Even the 
servants had been instructed by the doctor, and spoke 
just as he did. 

One thought followed me like a black demon; the 
conviction that Langenbach had played a disgraceful 
part in this drama. 

I had discovered that by the way in which he told me 
that Radom was alive, and which I could not forget. 

“ Langenbach is my brother’s murderer, not Radom!” 
I repeated. That secret “something” which had set 
them against one another, that had made them enemies, 
was Langenbach! 

My mother’s condition on the fourth day seemed less 
alarming. She had called continually for her son, and 
that morning she seemed able to understand more 
clearly what the doctor had repeated to her daily, namely, 
that her son, wounded as he had been, was not so far 
recovered as to be brought home. 

The hope of my mother’s life being spared to me com- 
forted me that day. Although I was weary, and it scared 
me upon looking in the mirror to see a pale, sorrowful 
face, I felt more composed. 

“ Dear doctor,” said I, accompanying him purposely 
into the ante-room, “ I feel strong enough to-day to hear 
everything. Be frank with me; at least release me from 
the prison in which you have fastened me, so that I 
should hear nothing from the outer world. I warn you 
that the first time I am able to leave my mother’s side I ' 
shall run into town to obtain the news which you keep 
from me. This secret will kill me! I can bear it no 
longer! I shall lose my mind!” 

The doctor took my hand and drew me toward a seat. 
“ Countess,” he whispered, feeling my pulse, “ what I 
did, what I ordered to be done, my duty as a physician 


198 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

demanded. I see that you are calm; I see that the 
knowledge of what has happened will add more to your 
composure than a continuation of this uncertainty. 
Of what has happened you know the sad outline, the 
rest this letter, which I have carried about with me five 
days, will tell you.” 

The doctor drew out a letter and handed it to me, 
hesitatingly and with a searching glance. 

My hand shook; my heart beat violently. But scarcely 
had I read the address, when the letter fell from my hand. 
I hid my face. 

“From the murderer of my brother ! I 

dare not touch it!” 

The doctor stooped and picked up the letter. 

“ Sir Arthur Wardley applied to me, countess, to deliver 
this letter to you. On account of the great delicacy 
which this man showed, on account of the tender and 
respectful manner of this friend, it was impossible for 
me to refuse this favor to him, or, rather, to the writer of 
this letter, a man whom I have always highly esteemed. 
Sir Arthur told me that he was commissioned to seek you 
out personally; he asked me, countess, to acquaint you 
with this as soon as I considered it proper, and added 
that he would not leave town until he had fulfilled his 
mission.” 

Gazing sadly before me, struggling with myself , I was 
silent a long time. 

“ From my brother’s murderer. I can neither read 
this letter nor see Sir Wardley.” 

“You are mistaken, dearest countess,” the doctor 
interrupted, “ Baron von Radom is not your brother’s 
murderer!” 

I stared at the doctor. I thought there was hope in 
these words, 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 109 

“ My brother is dead!” cried I. “ Do not try to deceive 
me as you do my mother!” 

“ No one can say whether or not your brother is dead 
at this moment.” 

‘‘Then he lives! Did you tell my mother the truth?” 
cried I, hastily. 

“If you, countess, desire to know the truth — no!” 

“ Herr von Radom wounded him — killed him!” 

The doctor laid his finger upon his lips to silence me, 
for my mother might hear my words. 

“ Herr von Radom did neither the one nor the other; 
you may take my word for it!” cried he, emphatically. 
“ It is your duty, countess, to read this letter, and after 
that you will tell me if, and when, you wish to receive Sir 
Wardley. You asked me to tell you all. I have done, 
and do what you desire.” 

The doctor’s words sounded so determined, as he 
again put the letter in my hand, that I sat there motion- 
less. 

“Your mother has just fallen into a doze. Seize the 
opportunity, countess. This afternoon I shall return.” 
With which, he left. 

The paper burned my hand. All was quiet about me. 
My heart beat loudly as finally my eyes rested upon the 
characters, which formerly had always filled me with 
delight, and the longer I looked at them, the more did 
they impress me with that same feeling. 

“Not his murderer!” I said to myself, “Take my 
word for it!” so said the doctor. 

What torment had the thought occasioned me that this 
man, upon whom I had set my affections, even though 
against his will, had upon his conscience my brother’s 
death, that this man who had sworn that he loved me, 
could have 


200 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

How perplexing it all was. I must have certainty. 
I dried my tears, I tore open the envelope and 

There were those characters so dear to me, as harmo- 
nious as Otto’s speech, those characters, each of which 
had always been an avowal of love! 

Some minutes passed before I could gather strength 
enough to read. 

Only the first line, “ Dear, adored Paula!” could I at 
first decipher, and it awoke in me again all the bound- 
less love which had cost me so much to stifle. 

“ Courage?” said I to myself. “ He is innocent! He 
must be!” 

And with the paper dancing before my eyes, and my 
heart throbbing wildly, I read the letter, which seemed 
to me like a last will and testament. 

‘‘ That blissful hour, which I spent with you for the 
first time undisturbed, I shall probably pay for with my 
life, but I shall give it cheerfully, if it be so decreed. 

“ I write to you to-day on the border between life and 
death. 

Receive this as a farewell, so painful to me that my 
heart would break, did I not need it a few more hours for 
my honor’s sake. 

“ All that feeling of violence and anger which possessed 
me, has been overcome since my return this evening to 
my apartments. 

“ Your brother succeeded the night before my depart- 
ure in giving vent to the grudge he bore me. I have 
my choice of either being dishonored in the opinion of 
the world, or of demanding satisfaction from him, and 
either will be followed by the loss of my life’s happi- 
ness. 

“ I am lost to you in either case, and choose therefore 
an expedient, which will at least keep me from charging 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 201 

myself with the death of a man who is the brother of 
my beloved Paula. 

“ But I shall certainly not give you up, Paula, with- 
out giving you the key to a secret which has so 
often troubled you, and which should never have been 
divulged. 

“For a long time — ah! too short a time — I vainly 
hoped that fate would be propitiated. I thought I could 
shirk a mission which inspired me with horror. Now 
fate herself forces me to fulfill it. 

“ When I first saw you, dearly beloved Paula, I turned 
from you tremblingly; I tried to escape from you; my 
brain whirled; I felt that I must love you. 

“ It cut me to the heart when I heard your beauty, your 
accomplishments, your amiability extolled in society; for 
I had to avoid you, and I loved you. 

“ Once before, I had met you in the street in my 
native place, to which I had returned for several days. 
Amazed, lost in admiration, I stood there and looked 
after you. 

“ I heard that you were the Count von M.’s daughter, 
and tried to hate you. 

“You ask: “Why, what had I done? 

“Nothing; not you; you angel in mind and form! 
Nothing! But I am the son of that unhappy Baron von 
Reuth, of that friend of your father, of that unfortunate 
man whom your father shot, because my father’s brother 
had made an innocent, but thoughtless remark about him! 
I am that man’s son, who, after my mother’s death, was 
adopted by my uncle, Baron von Radom, whose name I 
assumed.” t 

With a cry of surprise, the letter fell in my lap. 

That was the fatal secret which he had kept from 


me, 


202 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

And now his often strange behavior was clear to me; 
his anxiety, his perplexity, when I requested him to be 
frank with me; and which perhaps he would not have re- 
fused me later, when fate had joined us. I read further: 

“ This uncle taught me to hate Count von M. with all 
my might. Very early he impressed upon me that I must 
avenge my innocent father’s murder, as he called it. 

Count von M. died. My business took me abroad; 
I thought no more of retribution, for my father’s mur- 
derer would now have to answer for his sins before a 
higher tribunal. 

“ Then I saw you the second time. What I felt at the 
sight of you, I have just confessed. 

“ I saw you again and again. I must go away; I left 
no stone unturned to obtain my removal, but I was always 
sent back here. 

“ Finding that I was struggling in vain, I remained, 
and my heart gained the victory over my will, when I 
had a chance to admire your voice, your beauty, and your 
gentleness. 

“ Then your brother came. I loved you and was most 
happy in possessing your love. A feeling got the better 
of me which began to wrestle powerfully with my love — 
an aversion to your brother, who was pictured to me on 
all sides as the image of his father in person and 
character. 

“You know that for your sake I conquered that aver- 
sion, that, finally, I could even make up my mind to 
treat him civilly. To feign a truly friendly feeling for 
him, my honor forbade. 

“You often begged me to approach him. I tried to, 
but it was as if my father’s spirit stepped between him 
and me. 

“ Chance may have betrayed to your brother my family 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 203 

name — I only suppose this. But I hoped some day to 
introduce myself to him under that name; for your sake 
to offer him the hand of the son of his father’s innocent 
victim, and, by a formal reconciliation, lay my father’s 
ghost. 

“ Other influences prevented me. 

“ By an intimate friend, whose name is only too familar 
to you, whose personal interests clashed with mine, he 
was set against me, and what he could not accomplish, 
was completed by a woman of the commonest order, who 
had inveigled him into her net. Baroness von Ebersburg, 
whom poverty or misfortune had brought so low, that I 
saw her once in Paris in the very depths of degradation. 
She did not know that I had seen her. But papers 
passed through my hands officially which disclosed to me 
her Parisian connections. Since then she has treated 
me with the greatest kindness; but a silly fear of some 
indiscretion on my part, must have induced her to 
secretly prejudice your brother against me, and the ill- 
will he has borne me since he discovered our love, 
exploded this evening in a manner which no atonement 
could make good. 

“ I see in that, which is unavoidable and which lies 
before your brother and me, a repetition of what took 
place between his father and mine. 

God is my witness that I did everything in my power 
to avoid an 4clat ! 

“But how inexorable is fate! Still it drew our hearts 
together. It broke the bonds to plunge you and me into 
despair. 

“ Do not fear for him, Paula, who must be dear to you. 
Fear nothing from my hand. I decided long ago to for- 
get that blood-guiltiness, and even fate shall not force 
me to carry out what it is hatching. 


204 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

“ My hand shall not serve as the instrument, it may 
accomplish what it wishes. 

“You, my life, for whom I am about to part; you, my 
soul, must not be angry with me. I wish to be guiltless 
if I live, and guiltless if I die. 

“ Think of me affectionately, and remember that w^hat- 
ever happens, is what I could not prevent and what is 
against my will. 

“ I am lost to you if I live or die; may he be so too 
who caused my death. 

“May God judge us both, and bless you a thousand 
times for your love. 

“ And now accept a last, affectionate kiss from 

“ Your departing 

“ Otto.” 

With a great effort, interrupted several times by tears, 
I succeeded in reading to the close. I felt as if my heart 
had ceased to beat. 

The world was to me as a grave; this semi-conscious, 
dark, dreary condition was a benefit to me. I would 
have liked to die like him 

But no; he still lived! Langenbach himself had told 
me; it must be true. My brother was the victim, and he 
the guilty one! Had he not written: “Fear no harm 
to him from me.” 

But what had happened? Otto’s words were mysteri- 
ous and incomprehensible. 

I shivered. 

The explanation of that secret, that enigmatical 
“ something,” occurred to me. My thoughts flew back 
to the time when we first met; he had it been who had 
formed my ideal, and now that lovely dream was ended, 
and so miserably! 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


20Ö 


I sank back. I closed my eyes and reflected. 

I must speak with Sir Arthur Wardley as soon as 
possible. 

He, Radom’s confidant, would be able to explain all. 
He could tell me about my brother’s fate, for he must 
know everything 

A noise at the door interrupted my meditation. 

The maid entered to tell me that my mother had 
awakened. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

What the whole town knew, what had interested society 
and people in general for days, we knew nothing of, we, 
whom it so nearly concerned. 

Our house was like a grave, so silent. I saw the 
passers-by cast a side-long, shy glance at our house in 
passing, and saw how strangely the neighbors looked up 
at our windows, but since their sympathy had been 
expressed by leaving their cards, no one had entered our 
house. 

However, -our name was in everybody’s mouth. Every- 
one spoke of young Count von M.’s fate, and instead 
of diminishing, the interest in it increased every day, 
every hour. 

Our doctor returned sooner tnan ne had promised. 

He found my mother calm, but very weak. To allay 
my anxiety, he called my attention to the patient’s ben- 
eficial rest, while I perceived how perceptibly her strength 
had decreased. 

The doctor’s first question related to Sir Arthur’s 
visit. 

I was obliged to speak with the latter; I had con- 


2Ö6 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

eluded to receive him as soon as my mother’s condition 
permitted. 

“ I myself will remain with our patient; when do you 
wish to see him?” asked he, and I noticed that he was 
anxious to have me hear the truth from a reliable 
source. 

“ If it is convenient for Sir Arthur, after dark.” 

The doctor was much pleased with this answer. He 
seemed to comprehend why I had chosen the evening. 

“ I shall go to him immediately,” said he, quickly. 
“ Will you permit me to bring him at once? I have 
promised your mother several times to talk with her 
about her condition as soon as she was well enough; 
you will, therefore, have time enough to listen to Sir 
Arthur.” 

Laboring under a terrible excitement, breathing with 
.fficulty, an hour later I entered the drawing-room 
in which formerly my mother welcomed her guests. 

I was miserable, and that made me feel as if I were 
going to hear something dreadful. What else could the 
doctor’s mysterious silence forebode? He must know all. 
Why did he not tell it to me himself ? Why should he 
seek an interpreter in Sir Arthur? 

It was easy for him to deceive my mother; it was his 
duty as a physician. He had left me in the belief that 
my unhappy brother was badly wounded. That he was 
still alive, he concluded from the fact that his corpse had 
not arrived, that not even the tidings of his death had 
been received. 

This last he had assured me upon his word of honor. 
He had appealed to Otto’s letter, but that was more per- 
plexing than anything; beside, it had been written before 
the catastrophe, in such a strain as to prepare me for the 
worst, and yet to leave me, completely in the dark. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 207 

I now wished to learn everything through Sir Arthur, 
and I would not receive this strange man as the friend and 
messenger of Radom, as my brother’s mortal enemy, but 
as the supposed witness of that bloody scene, who might 
also give me news of Hermann. 

I cautiously set the evening as the time for his visit. 
Sir Arthur was probably known as Radom’s friend; he 
might have been seen with the latter; it was most likely 
known that he had witnessed the duel, and the world 
might censure me if I allowed this man to cross my 
threshold. 

My anxious agitation was joined with a certain amount 
of fear, as I stepped into the salon. Every shadow cast 
by objects in the room startled me. It seemed to me as 
if a form must step forth. I saw first Hermann, then 
Otto, who had been so dear to me, and I shuddered as 
my gaze rested upon the life-sized portrait of my mother, 
which had delighted me so much as a child 

My mother then and — now! The poor, wasted invalid 
was the same that beamed from that canvas in the charm 
of her youthful beauty. 

And our relations then and — now'. 

I passed my hand over my eyes in order to blot out 
the comparison. I groped for a seat and was about to 
sink down, when my maid entered. 

The noise at the door made me start up. I imagined 
that it was Sir Arthur, who would find me unprepared for 
him, although he knew that I had expected him. 

‘‘ The strange gentleman, who came with the doctor,” 
said my maid’s voice. 

“He is — welcome!” 

I arose and felt how unsteady were my limbs. I 
supported myself upon the arm of an easy-chair, and saw 
the tall, slender form of a young man dressed in black, 


208 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

enter. A hasty glance at him showed me a thoroughly 
English face, with refined, regular features and a light 
beard. As he approached me respectfully, I saw in his 
face a gravity, a determination, which impressed me. 

This man was Otto’s friend! 

“ Gracious countess,” said a clear voice in purest 
German, in which a slightly British accent was notice- 
able, “ I feel honored to be able to fulfill a mission, which 
to me is so sacred, so inviolable, that even at the risk of 
annoying you, I must discharge it.” 

Sir Arthur spoke with a solemnity which affected me 
deeply. While he spoke he looked down, and only 
raised his eyes when with a movement of my hand I 
invited him to a seat opposite me. 

His voice, his dignified and at the same time modest 
manner, his elegant and easy carriage, his black clothes, 
his black gloves, in conjunction with the solemnity of his 
demeanor, all exercised such an influence over me that 
I listened to him gladly. 

It required an effort for me to utter a few words, and 
beside, the right was denied me of expressing any pleasure 
at his visit. 

‘‘ Doctor Wilder told me I should hear from you,” I 
faltered. Sir Arthur Wardley understood the pain of 
that moment. 

I again invited him silently to be seated and seated 
myself likewise upon the sofa. 

“ Has the gracious countess read my dear friend, Otto 
von Radom’s letter?” asked he in his resonant voice, 
even clearer and firmer than before. 

“ I read the letter of a man. Sir Arthur, who was as 
dear to me as to you, and dearer, but of whom ” 

“ I pray you, do not condemn my unfortunate friend,” 
Sir Arthur interrupted very decidedly. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 209 

** Otto von Radom acted like a man, whom honor unre- 
lentingly forced to sin against all that he held dearest 
and most sacred; what he was obliged to do, however, 
was done so carefully that he should be held guiltless by 
you, countess. I was the witness of his actions, the 
confidant of his motives, the counsellor of his resolu- 
tions, and swear to you by heaven that his thoughts and 
actions in so difficult a situation were governed by the 
hope of being free from reproach as far as you were 
concerned. That he succeeded is owing partly to my 
share in it, though the issue could be nothing but fatal. 
It required the death of either the one or the other!'’ 

So my brother Hermann is dead?” cried I. 

I am unable to answer your question!” 

“You too? Great God! I allowed you to come in 

order to learn the truth, or at least to throw light upon 
this terrible darkness, and you ” 

“I beg your permission to relate to you truly and 
clearly the whole affair.” 

“Speak — I beseech you!” 

Sir Arthur drew a deep breath. 

“Otto von Radom,” began he, “ with whom for years 
I have been very intimate, was, in my presence and in 
the presence of others, offered an insult which could 
only be atoned for by bloodshed. As together we were 
leaving the club. Count von M., turning to his companion, 
called loudly after us: 

“ ‘ To-morrow I shall shoot that intriguing person as 
if he were a dog!’ 

“ At this insult, deep, condemnatory silence reigned in 
the club. Several gentlemen hurried after Radom to 
express to him their indignation. 

“ We repaired to Radom’s lodgings. Here my friend 
clenched his fists, here he acted like a madman, and only 

14 


210 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

then did I learn, when he grew more composed, the 
cause of the to me so incomprehensible insult and also 
of his despair. 

“ Otto von Radom and I, gracious countess,” inter- 
polated Sir Arthur, very delicately, had never secrets 
from one another. He owed me this confession m the 
face of the situation, but nothing else in the world 
would have driven him to it. He looked death in the 
face and thought it necessary to make me the private 
attorney of his thoughts and actions. 

“ I spent the remainder of the evening with him. I 
promised not only to prepare the way of his last, diffi- 
cult course, but to stand by his side in it. 

Permit me, gracious countess, to mention the cere- 
monies which necessarily accompany an affair of 
honor between two men, and which are unfamiliar to 
ladies. 

My unhappy friend would hear of none of the 
weapons that I proposed. He explained that he could 
not direct them against the brother of the lady to whom 
he belonged with his whole heart and soul. It was my 
sorrowful duty, as I saw him weaken, to impress him 
with the necessity of making a choice. 

“ Then Radom seized my hand and pressed it in his. 
I saw that something was on his mind. 

‘‘ * Arthur,’ began he, ‘ have you ever believed in fate?' 

“I looked at him in dumb astonishment. His face 
was almost demoniacal, an expression which I had thought 
that fine, open countenance incapable of. 

“‘In my life a drama is being spun out. Uncon- 
sciously I have become the hero! You know I am not 
the son of Baron von Radom, but rather his adopted child, 
whom he took when my unhappy father fell in a duel, 
and my mother, overcome by grief and despair, soon 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 211 

followed him. I was obliged to assume his name and 
lay aside that of my father, Baron von Reuth, in order 
that I might inherit the large fortune which was taken 
from me all but a small portion. My father was the 
victim of a proud, overbearing man, who fell upon him 
from behind the whist table, and the next morning shot 
him down. This murderer of my father was Count von 
M., the father of that same Count von M., who over- 
whelmed me, his son, to-night with the most barefaced 
insults in a strikingly similar manner. 

‘“I am certain that he found out that I am the son of 
the man whom his father killed, for a short while ago he 
told his friends at the club over their champagne, about 
this murder, though he knew me to be sitting quite near 
him. He who, as I have heard, tries to follow in his 
father’s footsteps in all things, was longing for an 
opportunity to exercise his bravado upon me, and that 
opportunity unfortunately was not lacking. 

“ I almost believe that there is some foundation for the 
fairy tales of our youth, in which a good and evil fairy, 
a good and evil demon, work their spells. This good 
fairy taught, yea, forced me to love the sister of my 
mortal enemy, an angel of beauty and goodness; to her 
is it owing that all thoughts of revenging my father’s 
death entirely left me. But the evil fairy was victo- 
rious and to-morrow she will place the weapons in our 
hands. 

“ One of us must fall! 

“Paula’s husband I can never be, even if no one can 
accuse me of having killed her brother. If I live, I 
shall be dead to her! If he lives, Paula will be the 
object of his harsh will under which he will try to bend 
her, through which he wishes to deliver her over to one 
of his parasitic friends. 


212 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

“ If I understand the plan of fate aright, it wishes to 
prepare mine under similar circumstances. So I will set 
my plans against these of fate, and it shall say over my 
grave that I was a good diplomatist. 

‘‘I repeat, Arthur, that two motives have fixed my 
determination and you need not keep them secret in case 
I die; Count von M. shall not have the satisfaction of 
killing the son ot the man whom his father murdered ; he 
shall die without his sister, so dear to me, considering 
me his murderer! That is one. The other is that after 
my possible death, his sister shall be protected from his 
tyranny; his sister whom they would sacrifice to a man 
whom I have learned to despise, and in whom I recognize 
the author of my misfortune. 

“Now listen to me! When I could not decide upon 
the weapons, my mind was already made up, and you, 
Arthur, must act for me. What I have told you, will have 
explained to you my motives for acting so; if my oppo- 
nent’s second considers my conditions too hard^ and hor- 
rible an equivalent for the rude insult which was offered 
to me, you may tell him that the result concerns me as 
much as him, that between him and me there is an old 
score to be settled, which shall be settled once and 
forever between the family of Count von M. and that of 
Baron Reuth, called Radom. 

“You can probably imagine my plan. We shall draw 
lots to decide which of us shall allow himself to be shot 
through the heart as my father was. He who draws the 
unlucky lot, will have twenty-four hours’ time in which 
to arrange his affairs. 

“After the four and twenty hours have elapsed, one 
of us would remain; either he or I, and that may not be. 
He may not live, for reasons which I have already 
given you; I do not wish to live, because I take no 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 213 

interest in life, and have nothing to live for. But the 
laws of an affair of honor must be carried out, and Count 
von M., who had the audacity to insult me in the face of 
the 4lite of society, must have the courage to answer at 
the same time for the insult and my father's death; if 
he is frightened by my demands, I shall denounce him 
publicly as a dishonorable man, and shoot him wherever 
I meet him. 

“ So get two lots ready, dear Arthur, a red and a 
black one. 

“ He who draws the red one, within the next twenty- 
four hours must prepare for death. He who draws the 
black one, will incur the punishment of a moral death, 
will renounce his name, his position and fortune, and 
lead an obscure life at least one hundred miles from here. 

“ If I draw the black lot, there is nothing for me but 
to do, what, without that, was appointed for me. If the 
count draws it, he can carry about with him all his life a 
disagreeable remembrance of his insolence. 

“ These, Arthur, are my terms, not one iota of which 
must you allow to be changed. If he is cowardly enough 
to refuse them, do what you think necessary, but hasten 
the matter. Leave me alone to-night so that I can put 
my affairs in order. By to-morrow noon you will have 
been able to arrange all. 

“ So, gracious countess,” concluded Sir Arthur with a 
sigh, “my friend's wishes were carried out. Not with- 
out objections on the part of your brother and his second. 
Captain von Langenbach? I was firm when the latter 
refused the terms. One of the twelve gentlemen who 
witnessed the insult at the club was to be chosen umpire. 
It fell to a friend of Radom’s, who, after I had told him 
the reasons for the terms, entered unconditionally into 
them. 


^14 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

“ Captain von Langenbach drew, in the count’s name, 
the red lot. Forty-eight hours afterward Herr von Lan- 
genbach announced to me that his unhappy friend had 
taken leave of him at his castle, and accompanied only 
by his groom who, after his death, would find in his breast 
pockets his last wishes, had gone to the woods, where 
he would accomplish that which the lot had determined 
for him. Herr von Langenbach added that his wishes 
consisted only in this, namely, that his body should be 
placed in the vault of his forefathers without any show 
or any witnesses.” 

Sir Arthur stopped. He did not dare to look at me 
and gazed before him some time. I was not capable of 
uttering a word. My breath often almost ceased during 
his story; thoughts of my mother outweighed all other 
feelings. 

Hermann dead! killed by his own hand! Terrible! 
Terrible! 

And while my mother, herself not out of danger, 
believing him to have recovered from his wounds, asked 
every hour if he had not returned, her gallant son, on 
whom her heart was set, already lay in the dark, black 
vault to which we had escorted our father. 

Who should give her this message? I dared not; I 
could not give her her death-blow! 

I for my part had been prepared to hear that Her- 
mann no longer lived; only the strange conditions of 
his death affected me. I saw my unfortunate brother 
point the muzzle against his breast, saw him fall, in those 
woods to me so gloomy, in which that murder had taken 
place, perhaps upon the same spot! — And Radom — He, 
the murderer! — 

No, he was not! Sir Arthur’s story convinced me that 
he had acted as his noble heart prompted — What had 
become of him? 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 215 

Sir Arthur did not speak of him; his delicacy forbade 
him, and I, I dared not ask for him. I pictured him 
forsaken, forgotten, wandering about, a voluntary exile. 
It took several minutes to muster the effect which Sir 
Arthur’s words had made upon me. He perceived my 
mood and maintained a respectful silence. 

Finally, spurred on by the thought that my mother 
might need me, I was enabled to say a few words to 
him: 

“ I thank you from the depths of my poor, sorely-tried 
heart, Sir Wardley. The misfortune which has come upon 
my mother and me is crushing; should you see Baron von 
Radom, take him my thanks for his consideration towards 
me. More it is not permitted me to say, for my brother’s 
death, under any circumstances, must have separated us 
from each other forever.” 

Sir Arthur looked up a trifle surprised. The cool- 
ness with which I spoke of Radom may have surprised 
him, and yet he might have known that the sad issue of 
this affair, if not brought about by him, had through 
him imposed upon me the still sadder duty of giving 
him up. 

Sir Arthur inclined his head. 

“ I do not see him,” said he with a sigh. “ In him I 
shall lose a friend who can never be replaced; this loss 
will isolate me for the future, for no one can be to me 
what he was; he, with whom I harmonized in all things, 
with whose mind, even when we were apart, my mind 
held intercourse. He has left me forever; even my 
tears were powerless in persuading him to confess to 
me whither he was going, or in obtaining his promise to 
send me a few lines. 

“‘I have become a nobody!’ said he to me, with a 
sorrowful smile, ‘ and shall assume that position in the 


216 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

world after I have announced my destiny to my sover- 
eign, have asked for my dismissal, and have put the man- 
agement in another’s hands. The ready-money which I 
still have may serve to support me sometime, for now-a- 
days no one finds neither locusts nor honey; this resource 
must last until I have found some work in the primeval 
forest or on the Indian frontier, or perhaps until I become 
the chief of one of the tribes of redskins. 

‘‘ ‘Allow me, dear Arthur, to confess to you what it costs 
me to part from you; I, who was permitted to possess 
the enviable good fortune of finding a true friend. 
Look upon me as dead! mourn me as a departed friend! 
for it would be just the same if I were the other side 
of those clouds which you see passing over us, or if I 
were the other side of the ocean! I once read that the 
Orientals had succeeded, by virtue of the force of habit, 
in not thinking at all. If it be in the power of man, I 
shall acquire the faculty; I shall think no more and if 
it should ever occur to me that there had once been an 
Otto von Radom, I would mourn that unfortunate man 
as one who was very dear to me. If I were in the neigh- 
borhood of a church, I should, as a good Catholic, have 
masses said for his soul. 

“ ‘We are saying farewell in this world, Arthur; he col- 
lected himself quickly, for his voice grew tender; ‘ I am 
leaving you, and another, whom I dare not even bid a last 
farewell, with the loss of whom, I shall cease to exist. 
You will perform this last act of friendship for me and 
take her my last farewell. She will not, she can not, 
refuse to see you, for she knows that no blame attaches 
to me; she it was who asked me to avoid her brother, 
and only for one thing do I reproach myself: it is for 
having gone to the club that evening. Tell her all that 
you know; tell her, if she still wishes to hear it, that she 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 217 

was my all; and if, perhaps, soon and far from here, a 
homeless man should die, his last breath would be a 
prayer for her happiness and peace!’ 

“With that Radom embraced me; he pressed me to 
his breast, looked once again in my face as if he wished 
to impress my features upon his memory, turned away, 
ashamed of his tearful eyes, and vanished.” 

Sir Arthur Wardley said this very carefully, always 
ready to break off in case I did not wish to listen to him. 
But his own eyes were moist. 

He spoke with an emotion which betrayed how great 
was his own sorrow, and rose, somewhat ashamed of 
having exhibited any feeling, but which I thought was an 
honor to him. 

Considering his mission discharged, Sir Arthur Ward- 
ley. falling back into his natural reserve and formality, 
took leave of me very ceremoniously. 

I could ask him no questions, though so many were 
in my mind; I had not the courage to enter upon a 
subject, the least mention of which awoke my sorrow anew. 

Froln Sir Arthur I had learnt that I was parted forever 
from a man without whom, several days before, it would 
have seemed to me impossible to exist. 

As he withdrew, I stammered a few words of thanks. 
It seemed to me, as if with him, my last hope departed, 
as if the last bond were broken, which, indeedf'had 
already taken place. 

Through him had I at least heard of Radom; what he 
had told me of him, convinced me of the greatness of 
soul, of the firmness of character of my lost one, of 
which, even in this critical situation, he had given proof; 
it also proved to me the inexorableness, the cruelty, with 
which he, when he saw himself and his happiness to be 
lost, had known how to punish his opponent. 


218 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

He had wished to protect me from my brother's 
tyranny, for he foresaw that by his death I should be 
exposed to it, therefore he had demanded the most terri- 
ble expiation. 

Without doubt there was another object at the bottom 
of it, — atonement for his father’s death, if Hermann drew 
the lot; Hermann’s pride should be broken, while he 
would not be able to lose anything more after having 
lost me. 

There was a large proportion of a man’s selfishness in 
his mode of acting, combined with the implacable 
vengeance of a man’s wounded pride. 

And my mother and I were the victims, for rny mother 
would never survive her son’s death. 

Stunned, divided between cursing and blessing the 
man to whom, in spite of his innocence, I owed so much 
pain and misery, I lay in my chair several minutes unable 
to rise, looking into a future which could only offer me 
sorrow and tears — tears, so many of which I had shed 
that my sight was impaired. Gladly would I have died 
to be released from my woes. 

All who had been about me were unhappy, but was 
not I more unhappy than my companion, than my 
friend? 

As I awoke from a state of semi-unconsciousness, I 
looked up affrighted. The doctor stood before me; he 
had taken my hand. 

Countess, I dare not leaye you alone! You deceived 
me when you assured me that you were strong enough 
to listen to Sir Arthur. Compose yourself. You are 
the one who has many duties to perform in this house. 
Your mother feels better; you must be self-possessed so 
that she suspects nothing. Nothing can be undone. 
Trust in the future — you may. Think that it is in the 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 219 

Almighty’s power to comfort, to reward those whom he 
chastiseth. Leave everything to his supreme power, and 
be you your mother’s comfort, for she, you know, needs 
it; and remember that before everything this is necessary: 
‘ Caution and self-possession!’” 

With those words he lifted me up. He took my arm, 
led me, blinded by tears, through the drawing-room to 
the door, and into my mother’s ante-room. 

Here I freed myself from his arm, and by a look 
besought him to give me a few minutes’ grace, so as not 
to show my mother a tear-stained face. 

He understood me. He entertained me with the pre- 
cautions and new treatment which he considered requisite 
for my mother, and I, who during the past few days had 
acquired the art of commanding myself in my mother’s 
presence, was ready in a few minutes to enter the room, 
which he, counting upon my self-possession, again closed 
after me. 


CHAPTER XXVH. 

The entire town for a week was full of true and untrue 
stories of the peculiar and unusual circumstances of the 
occurrence. 

Count M., one of the most brilliant, most prominent 
persons, whom all knew though he had not been here 
long, whom all either envied or admired, Count M., 
whose almost royal court state had attracted the atten- 
tion of all, in the pride of his manhood, had come to 
such a sudden and sad end! 

At court his death had affected all deeply. The king 
himself had repeatedly sent for Langenbach; the princes 
had demanded of him the minutest details; the whole 
court crowded about him. 


220 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

They had tried to obtrude themselves upon Sir Arthur 
Wardley at his hotel in just the same way, in order to 
obtain from him news of Radom’s whereabouts. 

Sir Arthur had refused to receive any callers, and his 
servant kept everyone away from his door. 

He was not to be seen, for he had only left his lodging 
once, and that was to visit me, even the king’s adjutant 
who came to hear the news from him, was refused 
admittance, like all the rest, on the plea of illness. 

When he returned from our house to the hotel, he 
demanded his account and an hour afterward left town. 

It was our doctor who informed me of all this. He 
had to tell me the news every day ; at my wish he had 
to give in and have a newspaper sent to our house, for 
we had had none since that day of terror. I was insatia- 
ble in my desire to hear all that related in any way to 
this sad affair. 

The newspapers had of course taken it up and seemed , 
never to tire, for they daily brought to light new details, 
for the most part bordering on the ridiculous. When 
my brother’s death furnished no more material they fell 
back upon his life, even upon my father’s, and spoke of 
events which often wounded me deeply because they 
were invented to amuse the public. 

I read not for diversion, for I did not wish to be 
diverted, but only for occupation. 

I was shut off from everyone, for no one came to our 
house, and those who sent to inquire for my mother s 
health were answered by the servants. 

For hours would I sit, when my mother lay in a doze 
resulting from weakness, absorbed in my thoughts, indif- 
ferent to all that was taking place around me, only con- 
scious of the slightest movement of the invalid, and 
yet in a state of anxious excitement, of fear. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 221 

In spite of my apparent apathy, I was tortured. I 
grieved for the loss of one of the best and noblest of 
men; my love for him grew with every hour, in my eyes 
he was blameless; the more I considered the circum- 
stances, the more I put myself in his place. I was con- 
tinually expecting that my mother awaking would call 
for Hermann! 

She could not understand why he, if he had recovered, 
had not come back. 

How many untruths had I been obliged to tell in order 
to quiet her! How many excuses, how many false rea- 
sons had I been compelled to offer to show her that he 
could not have been there yet — and I, I was the only 
one who had to answer those questions, for she could 
not bear me from her side, and her nervous attacks would 
recur if I left the room. 

She called me affectionately her best, her dearest child; 
but Hermann, she would add with a peculiar brighten- 
ing of her weary eyes, was her heart’s delight — the 
possession of whom every mother envied her. 

Once, as she held my hand in hers, which was cold and 
clammy, she touched the wound which burned within me. 

“You see, Paula,” said she, “ Hermann and I were 
right to protect you from that man, from that — other 
one (she dared not mention Radom’s name) who was 
bold enough to wish to take my son’s life! No doubt he 
is dead, for Hermann is a gallant champion to whom he 
surely was not equal. He is like his father. I remem- 
ber well how someone ventured to slander him and he 
had to pay for it with his life.” 

My mother then fell to meditating upon that event. 
Slowly she let my hand slip from hers, evidently busy 
with thoughts which took her back to the past. 

It pained me to hear her speak thus. 


222 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

In her eyes it was a crime to meet her son hostilely. She 
surely did not know the true cause of this terrible affair, 
for she had only heard of a duel and had anxiously hur- 
ried to me in my room; since that moment she had not 
been quite conscious. 

Daily she cursed the “other one;” I had to hear it 
and remain silent. But it was just those curses which 
again awoke my passion for him, a passion which, 
for a time, had been suppressed by tragical influences, 
and kept under by a feeling of duty. Radom loved me, 
though he had tried to hate me. A hundred times did 
I recall his behavior to me, his reserve, the sudden change. 
I saw his face, I now understood the struggle which took 
place within him, his duty as a son — Was not I now in a 
similar position? Did I not owe to him my brother’s death, 
although the latter had committed a wrong? 

As he had done, so did I now fight daily against duty; 
but that duty itself warned me that he was innocent, 
that I must not be angry with him, much less hate him. 
And yet we were lost to each other eterpally! 

At my urgent request our doctor had decided to 
employ a means of quieting my mother, which would, at 
least, help to make my task lighter. 

He told her that her son’s convalescence had been 
set back by some carelessness in his treatment, and that 
it would be some weeks, perhaps a month, before she 
could see him. 

My mother received this with a sigh, but after the 
doctor had assured her that there was no danger, she 
was more patient. The thought that her son was living 
comforted her; she submitted to the inevitable. 

So much the more careful did we have to be that no 
contradictory news should reach her when she was able 
to sit up, which the doctor promised her in the near future. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 223 

Indeed, after some days, she felt strong enough, prob- 
ably buoyed up more by her peace of mind than her 
strength; for illness had made a skeleton of her, and I 
was shocked when she, leaning upon me, tottered to a 
chair for the first time. 

During her illness a number of letters had accumu- 
lated which she desired to read. I carefully picked out 
those which she might not read, amongst them two short 
letters, which had arrived almost at the same time, one 
from the castle Intendant and one from the chief of the 
police. 

My hand trembled as I laid these letters aside. They 
were fastened with black seals and undoubtedly contained 
the news of my brother’s interment. 

I shuddered at the very thought of the contents of 
these letters; I therefore did not dare to open them. If 
they related to business matters they could surely be 
settled through Hermann’s attorney, of whom I had 
often heard him speak. 

A new vexation was occasioned me, when upon the 
doctor saying that my mother had left her bed, several 
ladies visited her; Princess Hermine came personally, 
and the queen sent one of her lady’s in waiting. 

I had to warn each of them in the ante-room that 
my mother was as yet ignorant of her son’s fate; but 
how easily might one of them have let slip a word! 

To my annoyance the princess used this opportunity 
to entertain them with “poor Langenbach’s ” misery, 
because his engagement had been postponed by this 
misfortune. 

I felt as if I should faint. Fortunately her eyes met 
mine; I motioned to her and she corrected herself and 
spoke of a “ sad affair ” which had excited the whole town. 

My mother expressed a wish to the princess to the 


224 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

effect that she would like to see Langenbach, who, as she 
explained, had stood so faithfully at her son’s side On 
the place of combat, and from whom she wished to hear 
a detailed description of the goings-on, which had, until 
now, been purposely kept from her. 

Princess Hermine promised graciously to send the 
captain to her, as soon as she was stronger; and in vain 
did I try by another sign to dissuade her from this 
unhappy idea. 

The doctor would have to interfere. Herr von Lan- 
genbach must not see my mother. I put all my hope in 
the doctor’s assistance, for I depended upon him to for- 
bid this visit. I, myself, wrote a letter that same day to 
the princess, informing her that the doctor objected to 
the visit at present, and that he reserved the right to set 
a day for it. 

My friends and acquaintances came to condole with 
me, and their chatter made me uneasy. 

Every caller made me nervous, although I warned 
each one to be careful. 

They expressed their regret that my engagement had 
been postponed owing to that sad occurrence, 2 nd each 
one cut me to the heart, while she thought she was say- 
ing something kind to me. 

Langenbach did not hesitate to put himself forward as 
far as he could. He often rode past our house, once 
indeed upon my brother’s handsome Andalusian, which 
the latter had presented him with. 

Only once did he have the happiness of seeing me at 
the window, though I stepped back and pretended I had 
not seen him. 

Everything indicated that he had not given up all 
hope of winning me, it even seemed to me as if the 
princess had mentioned this man for his own interests. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 225 

He might be counting upon my mother’s weakness, or 
upon her promise to her son, which she would keep more 
faithfully than if he were living. 

In almost all our connections with the outer world, I 
suspiciously thought I noticed his intrigues. 

* 4 « * * 

Amongst the letters which had accumulated for my 
mother, during our troubles, I found one addressed 
to me. 

I recognized the handwriting of our lawyer at S. But 
how could I find the time or mood to read it! 

He, no doubt, had written about Eugenie, and could 
I, myself so inexpressibly wretched, take an interest in 
another’s sorrows? Now that my mother’s condition was 
such that I could leave her at night to the care of others, 
in order to regain my strength, as the doctor urged me 
to do, I felt inclined, upon reaching my room, to open my 
letter. 

I had a presentiment that it contained nothing 
pleasant. However, 1 was so accustomed to worry that 
I could receive this news — be it what it may — with indif- 
ference. 

The letter was short and bore the date of one of our 
days of suffering. When I unfolded it, another, which 
was sealed, fell into my hand, and much to my surprise 
the address was in Eugenie’s writing. 

The lawyer wrote that he had succeeded in freeing my 
protdg^e from the cross-examination, after a neighboring 
peasant had voluntarily come forward, and sworn that 
he had met the laborer, who had been suspected of 
the murder, at the time it took place, in quite another 
direction. 

As this statement coincided with that of the man, he 
had been freed, and his client had also been set at liberty, 
16 


226 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

upon the wife of the laborer swearing that Eugenie had 
brought her food and money a number of times before 
the murder, although her husband had once insulted her 
and ordered her never to dare to cross his threshold 
again. 

Eugenie had been freed on the condition that she 
should consider herself subject to the disposition of the 
court, for they had not been able to prove anything, as 
yet, against her. 

Still, there rested upon the poor girl a certain suspicion, 
for she repeatedly maintained that she had found the 
tinder-box and that it must have been dropped by the 
murderer, who was not yet discovered. 

The lawyer concluded with the remark that he enclosed 
a letter from his client, which, if she — as he was con- 
vinced — was innocent, would certainly bar her from her 
class of society, and leave her in a very needy and pitiable 
condition. 

For the moment I forgot my own situation. Eugenie, 
free, but despised, rejected, in spite of her release pro- 
scribed by public opinion, which was not so easily 
appeased. And was not I obliged to confess to myself 
that something in my own soul spoke against her, that I 
felt sure she had not spoken the truth? 

If public opinion misjudged her, then was I not less 
unjust, for justice demanded clearness, and she refused 
to give it! 

1 was persuaded to confide in my mother, who 
ascribed Eugenie’s entire misfortune to her low extrac- 
tion. Eugenie seemed to me untruthful, deceitful, at 
any rate, not upright and honest. 

While at the castle she had always feigned the greatest 
candor, though she had her secrets by which she got 
herself into trouble. All that she had done was contra- 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 227 

dictory, characterless, and culpable, even her slavish pas- 
sion for my brother was despicable. At any rate it was 
the sign of an ordinary mind, and I now called to mind 
a remark which my mother, in her indignation, had made: 
“ The wooden apple will not become a pine in paradise!" 
What trouble would we have been in if she had remained 
at our house and had been taken from our midst sus- 
pected of participation in such a terrible crime! 

I owed my mother an apology! Her sharp sight had 
understood the girl's faults, her severity was justifiable. 

Very much depressed I opened Eugenie’s letter. It 
was written in French. 

“ Before God,” ran the letter, “ I affirm, my kind bene- 
factress, to whom I owe my escape from this fresh trouble, 
that I am innocent; but God, who knew my innocence, 
guarded me. He gave me strength, notwithstanding all 
the anguish which I have borne, to keep a secret which 
no torture could wring from me! 

“ I intrust this letter to the noble man who stood so 
faithfully by my side; in his hands it will be safe. I am 
certain that it will reach you, and you, my noble friend, 
must destroy it as soon as you have read it. I feel it my 
duty,. I think it only right, to clear myself at least in 
your eyes! The world may judge me as it will, I care 
not, for 1 am going far from here, where no one will 
know what has happened to me. But you I wish to think 
well of me, and though I may not tell you all, I shall at 
least say as much as I can. 

“Yes, I lied to the judges. I told an untruth; I 
would have told it had they wished to force the truth 
from me on my death-bed, in the face of the Holy 
Sacrament! 

“ I witnessed that murder in the woods! I acknowledge 
it to you! 


228 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

“ My unfortunate passion for a man to whom I owe so 
much of my misery and degradation, yet whom I can 
not even now help loving, induced me to follow him to 
the woods one day when he went hunting. 

“ In my heart jealousy was raging; I knew that he 
often visited the forester’s pretty daughter; I feared that 
she was not indifferent to him. 

“ In the woods, on his way to the forester’s house, he 
met young Richtmann, the girl’s cousin, who barred the 
way. Concealed behind the thicket, I heard the young 
forester reproach him; heard him beseech him not to 
ruin the girl, heard him implore him to avoid the forester’s 
house for the sake of the girl’s poor, blind' father. 

“ Then I heard a hasty interchange of words. I saw 
him seize the young forester and throw him down. Then 
I heard a shot. I saw that when the wounded man fell, 
he hung his gun over his shoulder and went upon his way. 

“I had the courage, when he had disappeared, to 
hasten to the injured man. The bullet had pierced his 
breast; I stood before a corpse. 

“Why I did it, I know not. I reached for the small 
silver object, which glittered in the grass near the body, 
hastened with trembling limbs to hide myself, and then 
sank upon the grass exhausted. 

“ This, countess, is the truth, the whole truth, as I 
hope for grace in heaven! This is the truth, which I 
shall take with me to the grave, which I only intrust to 
you in the deepest secrecy, in order to be cleared from 
suspicion as far as you are concerned, for I could stand 
it no longer. 

“Destroy this letter, I pray you! When it reaches 
you, I shall be in my native land, in France, or further 
still, for I think of going to Oran where a sister of my 
mother lives. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 229 

‘‘ I have been ordered not to leave this town, but I 
can not remain where all look upon me as a criminal; 
where I am avoided as if I were a leper. I shall fly secretly, 
and God will watch over me. 

“ Receive my thanks once again for your infinite kind 
ness, and think sometimes compassionately of 
“ Your unfortunate, 

“Eugenie.” 

What a terrible revelation, what a horrible light upon 
a secret, on account of which I had only just now con- 
demned the poor girl! 

My brother — the avenging hand of Providence had 
directed him to end his existence, in the same wood, per- 
haps upon the same spot, upon which he, by his arrogant, 
impetuous temperament, had become a murderer! 

With such a sin upon his conscience, my brother could 
enter into all the pleasures which this world offered him. 
No qualms of oonscience had interfered with his enjoy- 
ment, for what to him was such an obscure thing as the 
life of that poor young man! No fear of discovery had 
disturbed his composure; for earthly justice was, accord- 
ing to his opinion, only for the mob, an institution neces- 
sary to keep them within bounds. A human life was 
worth no more to him than a soap-bubble ! 

Now only did I understand poor Eugenie; now for the 
first time did I feel as if I must beg her pardon, not my 
mother’s, for my mother had judged her so harshly, 
though all the reasons for the girl’s actions were unknown 
to her. 

I felt small and mean compared with this girl’s great- 
ness of soul. From my eyes was lifted the veil which 
had kept me from perceiving the true worth of this 
unhappy creature. What devotion, what self-sacrifice, 


230 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

what heroism in that love which had seemed to me so 
servile! 

Probably gratitude toward us might have had a great 
deal to do with this self-sacrifice, but how much gratitude 
could we expect from her after she had paid what she 
owed us by giving up her entire happiness through that 
marriage which Hermann had forced her into. My heart 
was full. My mother should hear of the nobility of this 
girl whom she had condemned. And yet — on second 
thoughts, she must not hear of it. She would call 
Eugenie a liar, would look upon her letter as a cleverly 
invented lie, only planned to show herself in a favorable 
light. Later, perhaps, she might be told of it. Eugenie 
was lost to us forever ; to raise my mother’s opinion of 
her would probably be in vain, and would it be becoming in 
me to slander my brother’s memory in my mother’s eyes? 

I myself felt the advisability of destroying Eugenie’s 
letter. I would hide away my knowledge of the deed for- 
ever; my mother should know nothing of it. 

I quickly threw the letter into the fire, and with a 
certain sense of satisfaction, saw the paper burn amongst 
the flames. 

One thing I did not neglect; that night I wrote to the 
lawyer. I begged him to tell Eugenie to come to me, as 
nothing was now against her. 

The next morning my letter was posted. A few days 
later I received an answer. Eugenie had disappeared, 
and public opinion, which had been more favorably 
inclined toward her, had again turned against her, for 
her disappearance was construed into a sign of guilt. 

So it was that all that she did always spoke against 
her, and I was the only one who still stood up for her 
without being able to help her fight her battles with 
the world. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 


231 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

My troubles were not yet ended, although my measure 
seemed overflowing. 

The doctor’s efforts had succeeded in restoring my 
mother so far, that no more danger was apprehended. 
One morning she was sitting in her room, awaiting me 
to come and read aloud to her, when suddenly a piercing 
cry called up the servants. 

I was just finishing my toilet; breathlessly I rushed 
out. 

The servants were standing around my mother, who 
was lying upon the floor, her hand convulsively clutching 
a newspaper. 

I pushed back the servants. I threw myself beside 
my mother. I called her by the tenderest names. Her 
eyes were closed; her hands were stiff and her arms 
immovable. I called upon those standing about to help 
me. We tried to raise her — she was motionless, cold; 
there was not the faintest sign of life. 

Almost mad with grief, I wrung my hands, called for 
the doctor, threw myself weeping upon my mother and 
tried to revive her — but all in vain. 

The doctor found me upon my knees weeping and 
moaning. When he entered I sprang up; I hastened to 
meet him and led him to my mother. 

“Perhaps it is only a spasm; we will hope for the 
best,” murmured he; “ but in Heaven’s name, what 
caused it?” 

In all my confusion I remembered the newspaper which 


232 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART^ 

her cold hand had held. I picked it up and handed it to 
the doctor. 

“Curse it!” he muttered between his teeth. “What 
we have carefully hidden from her so long, this fourteen- 
day-old paper has betrayed to her. How came it in her 
hands?” I uttered a cry of anguish. Only that morn- 
ing had I succeeded in evading her questions about 
Hermann, and was convinced that the time must come 
when she could not be deceived, but, of course, she 
would have to be prepared for it. Now an accident, or 
negligence on the part of the maid, had told her all, and 
the result was much more serious than we^had imagined 
it would be. 

Tremblingly I watched the doctor’s efforts to restore 
my mother. Finally he turned to me, for I had not left 
his side, and in his silence, in the eyes of my faithful 
friend, I read that I was — an orphan! 

This knowledge affected me just as if an electric shock 
had completely paralyzed me. 

All the struggling and the contention about me and 
my happiness, all the longings, hopes, and fears dis- 
appeared with her, who had been my companion, who 
had protected me even though she often gave me pain. 
I felt deserted, as if the world had suddenly become a 
desert; and with her, my mother, whom I had loved so 
dearly ever since I could remember, died all that was 
still dear to me. 

The doctor, when he saw my ghastly countenance, 
when he saw me standing by, motionless like a statue, 
pressed my hand in his. 

“ Courage, countess!” said he to me with much warmth. 
“Your trial is a severe one; it is too severe not to be 
followed by the blessing of Providence, which you so 
richly deserve!” 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 233 

I scarcely heard the last part of this speech. It proved 
to me, however, what until now he had not said, that I 
was orphaned. Silently I threw myself upon the body of 
the one whom to live without it had never seemed pos- 
sible, and the only thought of which I was capable was 
a prayer to the messenger of death, hovering over our 
house, to take me, too, for he had taken my all. 

At that time I learned that excess of suffering can 
reduce one to the condition of existing unconsciously, 
in which state all external influences concern one as little 
as a breath upon a mirror. 

That day society came, the court at its head, to express 
its sympathy. I saw forms about me, which I recognized; 
I heard their voices, but what they said to me 1 did not 
understand. 

They wished to take me from the house of death; I 
refused to go. I saw my mother in her coffin, and not a 
tear was in my eye. 1 knelt for hours, although they 
tried to drag me away forcibly, by her side, my hamls 
folded, gazing before me, and the only sense of feeling 
that I had was, that my ear listened attentively, hoping 
to hear my mother’s voice. 

Only one thing made me cry out; it was the hammer- 
ing when they closed the coffin. I asked to see my dear 
one once more. I pushed all those who tried to keep 
me back, aside but gave in meekly when 1 saw that it 
was too late. 

All the sad ceremonies that were performed seemed 
to me like a dream, and when afterward I found myself, 
in quite different surroundings, it was difficult for me to 
understand that I was at the house of Baroness Loewen, 
a friend of my mother’s. 

I recognized the kind old lady; I knew her daughter, 
too, who took so much trouble to amuse me; but they 


234 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

were troublesome to me, and their efforts for my sake 
annoyed me. They did not understand that it would 
have been better for me had they spared me, for I took 
no interest in anything then. 

For weeks I was inconsolable. Although our many 
friends vied with one another in showing their sympathy, 
they exerted themselves in vain when they tried to inter- 
est me in any diversion. 

The only one to whom I was accessible was Baroness 
Loewen’s daughter, a kind, frank girl, who understood 
best how to treat me; she succeeded in awakening me to 
what was stirring in town. ' 

She had soon found out that a drama was being 
played in our family. Her honest sympathy won from 
me an account of the motives which had caused it; and 
I believe she was delicate enough not even to repeat it 
to her mother! 

The principal cause of my communication had been 
the boldness of Captain von Langenbach, who had asked 
permission to call upon me. 

With undisguised aversion I refused. Dora von 
Loewen could not understand this, for this officer was 
looked upon as my betrothed; this compelled me to tell 
the truth. And it was well that I did so. Dora’s brother 
was an officer, and one day she told me that he had said 
indignantly that Stephanie von Ebersburg, who had pre- 
ferred Count von M., my brother, to any of the other 
courtiers, whose attentions she had received so openly, 
was not ashamed, so soon after Hermann’s death, to 
receive Langenbach daily at her house; Langenbach, 
of whom it was now said, that he was the one, who, 
when Hermann had tired of this coquette, had always 
managed, by his machinations, to lead him back to her 
arms again. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 235 

Through Dora I first learned what -had not been 
known to us during my brother’s lifetime, that Stephanie’s 
reputation had been latterly entirely undermined by 
rumors of her former mode of life. And what Dora 
could not tell me, I saw for myself, namely, that Langen- 
bach, as I had suspected, had prejudiced my brother 
against Otto von Radom, only to warrant the possession 
of me for himself. 

And this man still dared to sustain the world in its 
belief that I was engaged to him, that my relatives’ death, 
had only postponed the official announcement. This 
man, who perhaps had some secret, objectionable alli- 
ance with Stephanie, while he furthered her plans of 
becoming Countess von M., who probably still maintained 
this secret connection with her, this man dared to appear 
before me! 

He, only he was my brother’s murderer! and he had the 
impertinence to hope for my hand after having caused 
the death of those who had so willingly “ lent him their 
ears!” 

This conviction only served to awaken my grief for 
the departed, for Radom, in all its violence. 

They had evidently tried to ruin him, in order to have 
full power over me; he must be put out of the way, and 
Langenbach himself was too cowardly to do it. He 
depended upon my brother’s courage and his dexterity 
in the use of arms, in which my father had early 
instructed him. By him, he expected to have the field 
cleared ; and, dazzled by his arrogance and his suscepti- 
bility to flattery, Hermann had fallen into the trap 
which was to ruin him and us! 

It was a matter of indifference to me if the world 
knew of this miserable intrigue or not; I, an unhappy 
woman, might have tried in vain to expose this man in 


236 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

all his baseness; I would probably not have been 
believed. 

So much the more good did it do me, when Dora’s 
brother, his own comrade, spoke of him in a way which 
showed the character of this schemer in at least one 
light. 

All the satisfaction that I could promise myself, lay 
in the thought that I, now mistress of my own fate, could 
spurn this man with the contempt which he merited, and 
if his aristocratic friends at court should inquire the 
cause, they should be informed of it. 

The opportunity was soon forthcoming. ' 

At the king’s command, a guardian was appointed 
over me, a high, ministerial official, a venerable man, in 
whom I gladly confided. 

- He came to present himself to me in his new capac- 
ity. When he repeated his visit, he spoke of his regret at 
having to trouble me with business matters. 

He managed to infer that he would like to have an 
exact knowledge of my position in regard to Captain von 
Langenbach, who was considered by the townspeople as 
my betrothed. 

With a scornful air I said that must be a report which 
only he could have spread. I hated, I loathed the man, 
and the idea that he was believed to be anything to me 
was doubly insulting, since I had heard that he was 
connected with Baroness Ebersburg. 

My guardian was surprised; my answer did not seem 
to please him. 

He had evidently been prepared for this by the other 
side, but felt that I would not converse any further upon 
the subject. 

He came again to tell me, with a rather perplexed air, 
that he was unable to prove my interests in these large 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 237 

estates, for it was impossible for him to obtain an official 
announcement of my brother Hermann’s death. 

This communication puzzled me. I begged him to 
speak plainer. My guardian then told me that there 
was, of course, no doubt of my brother’s death. He 
had gone to the castle and there taken leave of Langen- 
bach, who accompanied him, and shut himself for several 
hours in his father’s former study. 

After that he had sent for the intendant, had given him 
a sealed envelope and told him that in an hour he should 
start upon a journey, without being able to set the time 
for his return. If, in the course of fourteen days, he had 
not come back, he would find instructions in the envelope, 
and should send the inclosed letter to his attorney. 

Thereupon the young count had repaired, on foot, to 
the woods. Late that evening some villagers had come 
breathlessly to the castle, and had said that they heard a 
shot quite near them, as they were passing through the 
woods on their way home. 

As they hurried up to the spot, they saw the groom, 
with the body of the young count in his arms, walk 
towards the underwood and vanish. A pool of blood, 
on the same spot upon which, not long before, the forester, 
Richtmann, had been murdered, proved to them that 
either the groom had shot his master, or that a suicide had 
been committed. 

Upon this announcement, the intendant had opened 
the envelope and had found a note from the young count, 
in which he informed his intendant that he was obliged 
to end his life on account of an affair of honor in which 
he had drawn the death-lot. His groom, George, had 
been instructed by him, where to take his body. 

So the intendant had written in two letters, which were 
sent at once to my mother after this sad affair, but had 


238 . THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

not been opened, and were forwarded to my guardian 
with the rest of my mother’s correspondence. 

Since then nothing further had been hsard. His corpse 
had disappeared, the groom was nowhere to be found. 
They tried in vain to find out where the latter had taken 
the body. At first the suspicion had arisen that George 
had abused the dead man’s confidence, robbed him, and 
then flown, but the young count had himself said in his 
letter “ that his ready-money and his valuables would be 
found in his strong box.” 

Finally they decided that George had fled into the 
underwood to bury the body in an unknown spot, but 
this was not very plausible, for such a weak fellow as 
George could not possibly carry it far. 

All inquiries were useless. What did this secrecy 
mean? 

My brother was not naturally inclined to be myste- 
rious, but this George, in whom, as a child, I had recog- 
nized an unprincipled, low fellow, was capable, in my 
eyes, of any crime. 

With a shudder I thought of the confirmation of my 
suspicion that Hermann had ended his life on the same 
spot upon which he had shot poor Richtmann. Had 
Hermann perceived the avenging hand of Providence, 
as it led him to that spot, or was it at the last moment 
defiance of fate, which caused him to select it? 

Death had entirely reconciled me to my brother, but I 
did not forget the living one on that account, with 
blasphemy on his lips, trampling upon all the laws of 
mankind, worshiping himself as the only God, and I 
saw in my mind the proud gallant going to his death 
with an air of having chosen it himself, as if he were 
indifferently paying the penalty of a bet of a game at 
dice. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 239 

And indeed he had not changed countenance in the 
least, so that he need feel lowered in his own estimation; 
he died as he had lived, a thoroughbred baron, who 
knew no law but his own will. 

The communications of my guardian relating to ma- 
terial matters had no interest for me. I listened to him, 
without hearing; I was grateful to him for all the trouble 
with which he had burdened himself for my sake, and 
only asked one favor: That he leave no stone unturned 
to raise the mystery which the disappearance of my 
brother’s body occasioned. 

With every day, with every sun which rose milder and 
pleasanter, for spring was coming, with every warm 
breeze which announced to the world new life and 
greeted me in my solitary walks, with every note of the 
lark, I grew uneasier. 

My grief for my mother and brother turned grad- 
ually to a deep, affectionate memory of the dead, but 
my loneliness increased. There were hours when I 
would lock myself in my room to weep, then there were 
hours when I would rebel against fate — and again there 
were hours — ah! those were the best, and yet the most 
painful — when I thought of the man who had grown 
dearer to me since I had lost him! 

All the reproaches that I had heaped upon him so that 
I might persuade myself to forget him, disappeared in 
the certainty that he, as well as my brother, had been 
Langenbach’s victim. But hand in hand with this cer- 
tainty was the feeling that he was lost to me, that noth- 
ing could bring him back to me. And even if §ome 
power should lead him to return, who and what could 
bridge over the gulf which lay between us? 

Two graves rose between us! He was probably wan- 
dering about in some wilderness; my solitude, too, was a 


240 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

desert. I was often seized with the feeling that I must go 
to him, that I must seek him as long as my feet could 
carry me, as long as there was breath in my body; I 
would cling to him, share his exile, his poverty, would 
hide in some corner of the world with him, would be 
nameless like him, and happy in the knowledge of being 
with him. 

But those were wild phantasies which often excited 
my mind to the verge of madness, followed by the great- 
est hopelessness and doubt, which, at times, so worried 
my faithful, self-sacrificing doctor, that he scarcely left 
my side. ' 

In the meantime he endeavored to impress upon me 
that only change of scene would restore my peace of 
mind; he arranged everything so that I could accompany 
Dora and her mother to Montreux; he told me that the 
sight of people who had been intimate at our house 
continually re-opened my wounds. 

I was indifferent to his arguments ; circumstances 
matured my plans, which were to cross his. 

That which occupied my mind the most, the recovery 
of my brother’s body, seemed to trouble the rest very 
little. When I inquired, my guardian complained of the 
slowness and dullness of the authorities. On the other 
hand all took an interest in me whose condition filled 
all with the deepest compassion. 

Princess Hermine began to develop a lively interest 
in me. “ Poor child,” said she one day as she visited 
me for the third time, “ how gladly would I restore to 
you what you have lost!” 

I was often invited to walk with her; I had to sit oppo- 
site her in her carriage, when in the first early days of 
spring she took her drives. The older ladies of our circle 
also began to make me the object of their sympathy; one 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 241 

vied with the other in comforting, in diverting the poor 
orphan; I was drawn into the whirlpool of amusement; 
the court gallants and officers surrounded me, all with 
the ostensible effort of making me forget my sorrow. 
The king and queen themselves, so they told me oftener 
than I cared to hear, took a great interest in me, and in 
the background I saw — Langenbach, who now played 
the sentimental, looked at me from a respectful distance 
with dreamy eyes, and tried to make his manner as 
noticeable as possible. However, I soon learnt to tell 
which was real sympathy and which was feigned. But I 
was perplexed when Dora’s mother, with the greatest 
care, tried to touch a chord which she should have 
avoided. 

She, too, seemed to have allowed herself to be drawn 
into the conspiracy, the aim of which was to work for 

poor Langenbach,” who had really been engaged to me, 
whose ‘‘entire happiness ” had been wrecked, because I 
had lost “ all interest ” in him at my relatives’ death. 

Such was the declaration which Madame von Loewen, 
as the “ echo of society,” so she styled herself, made to 
me one day, when she thought me less reserved and 
more composed. It gave me an opportunity to explain 
all fully. 

In the midst of this general interest an aversion pos- 
sessed me against those, who, perhaps, truly sympathized 
with me; even Dora I mistrusted, for she avoided men- 
tioning Langenbach’s name, while formerly she had taken 
his part and made no secret of it. 

So only one was left to me who received my whole 
confidence — my kind, faithful doctor, who stood so inde- 
fatigably by me. From him I had no secrets, and I con- 
fessed to him that to myself I seemed like a hunted deer, 
surrounded upon all sides. 

16 


242 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

At first he would not listen to such a thing, and tried 
to convince me that I was unjust to those who so kindly 
interested themselves in me; he said that he thought 
their sympathy genuine. 

I understood him too well not to know that he was 
only trying to soothe me. I clung to him; I .confided in 
him my plan, which had in the past few weeks grown 
into a firm determination, and besought him to help me. 

One morning, eight days afterward, I stood ready for 
a journey with my maid. I told Frau von Loewen that 
for some time I had felt it my sacred duty to pray by 
my mother’s side, as her body had been 'placed in our 
family vault without my being able to accompany it 
thither. I wished to spend the spring at my castle and 
would return in the summer; the country-air, the doctor 
said, would benefit me. 

It was Frau von Loewen’s intention that Dora should 
go with me. I saw through that worthy lady’s purpose. 

I was not to be let out of their sight. The day before, 
when I had advised her of my intention, she had paid 
some hurried visits to town, and in the afternoon several 
ladies accidentally dropped in, who were very much 
astonished at the news, and whom I had to promise to 
return as soon as I had regained my strength, and my 
affairs at the castle were arranged. I promised Frau von 
Loewen to let Dora know as soon as everything was 
ready for her reception, as our castle had been very 
much neglected. 

I was obliged to tell a falsehood; but here where all 
were deceitful it did not matter so much. I must get 
away — quickly; the ground burnt my feet! 

Up to the last moment I feared that something might 
occur to detain me. I therefore trembled at every sound 
that approached my door. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 243 

Upon taking leave of her, Frau von Loewen looked 
at me mistrustfully. She may have noticed my anxiety; 
I saw that she had thought in vain of some means of 
detaining me; that up to the very last she had hoped that 
something would intervene. But who would have dared 
to stop the way of a daughter about to make a journey 
to her mother’s grave! 

When I knew that the town lay behind me, I breathed 
freely; still my pilgrimage was a sorrowful one. I 
longed to pray by my mother's grave, in that gloomy 
vault where the parents still awaited their son, who had 
not yet been found. I was on my way to a place which 
would recall my happy days; I, the only one who 
remained of the three, whose heart was so weary that I 
would gladly have rested by their sides. 

Once again I wished to see this place, and then — for 
the future, at my earnest desire, my loyal, old friend had 
provided. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

My arrival at the castle was of course a surprise. The 
intendant met me with visible embarrassment. All assem- 
bled in astonishment in the courtyard, and only Ger- 
trude, the housekeeper, received me with undisguised 
pleasure. 

They thought I had come to live at the castle. There- 
fore I told the intendant and overseer that I only pro- 
posed to make a short stay; and asked the former to give 
me some rooms in his house for a time, for to live alone 
in that large castle was to me impossible. 

The intendant offered to send a messenger at once to 
my brother’s attorney who lived in town. I asked him 


244 : THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

not to do SO, for I did not feel disposed to bother with 
business matters. 

He seemed glad of it. 

That evening Gertrude asked for an audience. I 
readily received her. From her I learned that all in- 
quiries after the groom who had disappeared had been 
vain; also that they had heard nothing of my brother’s 
body; however, she added in a whisper, she suspected 
that the intendant knew more about the affair than he 
would communicate. Perhaps, she continued, it was to 
this man’s interest to keep the matter in the dark as long 
as possible; still she had no occasion to think him 
unfaithful or covetous. 

Upon my asking if she had heard anything about 
Eugenie’s disappearance, she answered hesitatingly. 
She seemed unwilling to speak of her, and finally con- 
fessed to me that Eugenie, upon the day. on which my 
brother returned to the castle to end his life, had sud- 
denly made her appearance, and as suddenly vanished. 

She had been seen at twilight several times upon the 
streets, but had left no traces behind her. 

Another mystery! 

To me she had written that she was about to return to 
France. Her husband, the schoolmaster, Gertrude said, 
had moved away, and had a position at a place upon the 
coast five miles distant. 

What could possess Eugenie to remain in this neighbor- 
hood secretly! 

A very uneasy sensation had come over me since T had 
set foot upon my paternal ground. I, the mistress of 
these vast domains, felt like a stranger; the people who 
were about me, my inferiors, made a hostile impression 
upon me, though I had no cause for this, for everything 
was as we had left it and in the best order. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 245 

It must have been the mystery concerning my brother's 
body which made me so nervous. 

He had left the castle to end his life and no one knew 
anything further. 

They told me all the smallest details, they uttered the 
most absurd suppositions, and by means of all this made 
me more discomposed. 

No sleep came to my eyes that night. 

My brother arose before me once when I half dozed, 
with a gaping wound in his breast, and next him was the 
unfortunate Richtmann in the same condition. Then I 
saw Eugenie in the same blue dress in which she was 
carried to the fisher’s hut when taken from the water; I 
heard her cry: Faut pas punis celui-lä!" and then I 
awoke. 

The next morning the intendant informed me that at 
my request he had had the vault lighted and asked when 
I wished to visit it. 

My heart beat violently at this question; I drew a 
deep breath, ‘‘At once,” answered I, “ Gertrude shall 
^accompany me!” With trembling limbs I entered the 
chapel which my father had built above the vault, and to 
which he had brought the sarcophagi of our ancestors. 

I grew dizzy as the cold, icy air surrounded me; I 
was obliged to lean upon Gertrude for support, and to 
close my eyes at the sight of the bright lights shining 
upon the gilding of the sarcophagi. 

Gertrude carefully led me to the background. 

I stood before a catafalque, ornamented with the 
freshest and most beautiful spring flowers, upon which 
thick wax-tapers in candelabra shed their beams. 

I passed half an hour in fervent prayer. I implored 
my mother for pardon, for my disobedience had con- 
tributed to her death. Then I thought I felt a hand 


246 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

upon my brow, and heard my mother’s voice saying: 
“ Paula, bring my son to my side!” 

I shivered. The dampness of the vault made me 
chilly. When I raised my head one of the forget-me- 
nots in a wreath upon the sarcophagus caught in my 
hair. I broke it off and laid it next my bosom. 

Then Gertrude conducted me to my father’s coffin. 

The flowers upon it had long ago withered, and only 
the immortelles looked out from amongst the dead 
blossoms and leaves. 

I felt calmer, as I knelt at the foot of the coffin. But 
the tears coursed down my cheeks. I recalled the day 
upon which Hermann and I had stood here next my 
mother, when my father was laid to his last rest. 

Now they were united. By their side Hermann should 
rest. The sarcophagus was there awaiting him. 

Gertrude again approached me. She handed me two 
large wreaths of white roses which she had obtained 
from the conservatories. Silently I laid them upon the 
coffins of my beloved ones. 

Covering my face with my hands, sobbing aloud, I was 
led away by Gertrude, and when I breathed the fresh, 
pure spring air outside, I sank upon a stone bench in 
the Campo Santo. 

Orphaned! — Forsaken! — alone in the great world! 

* ^ ^ H< 

I could not bear to enter the castle in which every- 
thing reminded me of my lost happiness. With infinite 
woe in my heart I sat that afternoon at the window and 
looked upon the stone colossus, and as I sat there T 
seemed to see at the windows of the castle, whose blinds 
had been opened in my honor, passing to and fro behind 
the heavy damask curtains the shadowy forms of — my 
father, my mother, Hermann, Eugenie, myself. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 247 

What had become of all the pomp and splendor that 
once reigned supreme at this court! Quietly and silently 
the men and the maids now crossed the court; the 
equipages that had once stopped before the persons had 
disappeared, and the wild vine, whose withered branches 
hung from the eaves, seemed to me like a dying weeping- 
willow. 

I, too, should have died had I remained there! An 
anxious uneasiness kept me in a kind of fever. I felt 
strange in my home, and worse still — I was afraid, I 
knew not of what. I must go, and even the one night 
that I was compelled to spend there inspired me with 
fear, for I dreaded the visions that would certainly appear 
to me when I closed my eyes. My mission was fulfilled. 
I owned to myself that a second visit to the vault would 
be beyond my strength. The next morning, bright and 
early, I should continue my journey alone, without my 
maid, who could remain in Gertrude’s care. I had only 
about ten miles to travel to reach the convent in which 
my friend, the worthy doctor, had procured me a shelter. 

No one should discover where I was; not at any rate 
until I had succeeded in gaining my strength; until I 
had succeeded in entirely forgetting the past. 

Two days later I reached the convent. I was grateful 
to my friend and adviser, for I felt that here, in this 
paradise, here, in this calm peacefulness, where every 
morning and evening Hosannas were sung to the 
Almighty — all dissonance would be at an end; all rancor 
against fate would be apfjeased; and the heart’s wounds 
must be healed. 

And so it was with me. I gained by my intercourse 
with the prioress, a lady who herself must have suffered 
greatly, a certain degree of composure, an even frame of 
mind, which showed the mind’s gradual rccuvciy; and 


248 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

when often a deep sigh escaped me, or a longing for my 
loved ones, or for the man whom I could never forget 
possessed me, I felt a certain satisfaction, a certain pride 
in conquering those feelings. 

The recording of my diary awoke my old troubles. 

I tried to overcome this by persuading myself that I 
was writing the fate of others. Still my destiny, like 
that of my companion and my friend, led to Golgotha! 

When I had finished the record of my life, when I had 
no other employment with which to occupy my mind, 
then the old painful longing began to work within me. 
The nights, which had lately passed calmly, were again 
enlivened by visions, from amongst which stood out most 
prominently that of my lost Otto. 

The conception of what had become of him robbed 
me of my sleep. I could not remain in my room; I 
wandered about in the darkness in the park; I walked 
along the edge of the small pond, from amongst whose 
rushes I roused the dragon-flies, which flew about me. 

At such times I saw Eugenie, as she was drawn from 
the lake; and when I stood there listening, or when I 
threw myself upon the grass and covered my eyes with 
both hands, it seemed as if I heard Otto’s voice whisper 
in my ear: 

“ Paula, could you forget me?” 

Time certainly assuages grief, but that is no grief 
which can be healed in months! I was yet too young to 
possess the strength and self-dependence which 'my 
isolation demanded under the sad circumstances; I 
could at times attain this strength, but it left me as soon 
as my heart recommenced its stormy desires. 

sic )ic 

My misfortune seemed even to follow me into my 
solitude. Pale with terror 1 stood one morning at my 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 349 

window. I saw Stephanie von Ebersburg in a plain, 
modest dress, by the side of the prioress, walking in the 
garden! How came she here! What drove her to this 
asylum, she who was accustomed to shine as the sun in 
the firmament! 

I trembled at the thought that she might be an 
embassadress of Langenbach; of that man of whose per- 
severance in the pursuit of an aim I was aware. 

I did not dare to inquire about her; however, I heard 
that Baroness von Ebersburg had sought shelter here for 
a short time in order to recruit her strength in the calm 
of our Eden. 

That might only be a pretext. 

Still eight days passed without my noticing anything 
suspicious in her manner, as I watched her from my 
room. 

Stephanie evidently sought solitude. She took long 
walks, always alone, and only returned when evening 
had drawn to a close and midnight was near. 

I supposed . that she had seen me or knew of my 
presence. She, however, did not take any notice of it, 
and I carefully avoided her. 

When I went out at evening; when I — perhaps effected 
by her appearance — could not rest upon my pillow; when 
the old longing possessed me, and I was obliged to seek 
rest; as I wandered about the great convent park after 
dark, fear associated itself with my grief; fear that I 
might meet her upon my solitary walks; that she might 
suddenly stand before me, and what then? 

Nothing had ever taken place between us. We had 
become strangers, and my brother’s death had freed me 
from her net. But what I had learnt about her from 
Dora gave me cause to flee from her, to hold her in 
contempt. 


250 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

From the moment that she appeared I feit that my 
peace was gone, and what I dreaded came to pass. 

But not what I had hoped for, not what I had dared to 
hope for. I was grateful to her for her appearance here; 
I blessed the moment when I saw her in the shadow, 
seated on a bench, her arm about the neck of a young 
man kneeling before her, who looked up at her with a 
deathly pale face, a face that froze the blood in my veins, 
that silenced a cry of fear upon my lips, for that face 
was a dead man’s — it was Hermann’s face! 

I became unconscious. I awoke, paralyzed in all my 
limbs, on the spot upon which this face, this group 
appeared to me. Hours had passed since then. 

The arbor was empty. The moon shone just as brightly 
on the gravel. Everything about me was as still as death. 

I dragged myself out of the grove into the arbor; I 
sank upon the old, mossy stone bench, and supported my 
burning head in my hands in order to picture that face 
more clearly. 

Was it a vision of my morbid, heated brain? Of 
course! For days I had felt ill, feverishly excited. I 
had eaten and drunk very little, and ought really to have 
kept my bed. And the consequence was this vision, this 
horrible dream! 

My imagination had, at the sight of Stephanie, con- 
jured up my brother before my eyes, and he was naturally 
pale, as pale as death ! 

This conviction quieted me in some measure. I tried 
to regain my composure, made up my mind not to leave 
my bed the next day, and arose. 

Then my eyes fell upon the footprints in the sand at 
my feet. I stared at the sand, I exactly recalled the 
group as I had seen it not twenty feet from me. 

“ God, graciously enlighten me,” cried I, raising my 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 251 

hands to my head. ‘‘Hermann is dead, and if he is 
dead, who was it who lay at her feet, whose face was 
that of my own brother, which terrified me when it should 
have filled my heart with joy, if it were no apparition!" 

Hermann still amongst the living! that would give 
Radom his life, and me mine. 

But it was impossible! It was a phantom! and yet, 
those prints in the sand at my feet — and there, there 
on the edge of the lawn lay a dark object. 

I stooped. It was a fine, dark, lady’s glove! Stephanie 
had been here. Without doubt! But it was my imagina- 
tion which had pictured to me my brother in her arms, 
for Hermann was dead! 

“Dead? Yes, yes!" cried I. “Dead! Who saw his 
corpse?" I had seen my brother’s face too plainly for it 
to have been a vision; I saw only too clearly that 
Stephanie had her arm about his neck. This group was 
so fresh in my memory, that if there were any mistake 
possible, it must have been in the features. And again! 
was it likely that a sister could mistake a stranger’s face 
for that of her brother? 

I sat there a long time, racking my brain, and finally 
took the homeward path, taking the glove with me, which 
was to serve me as a proof of the truth of my discovery. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

Early the next morning I was at my window. I shiv- 
ered. Excitement had given me a fever. 

Instead of seeking out Stephanie, of demanding the 
truth from her, which she owed me as his sister, I could 
not bring myself to leave my room. I said I was ill, 


252 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

remained the whole day between four walls, and awaited 
the evening anxiously. 

Night, which generally veils all things, was to bring 
me clearness. 

A presentiment warned me that another crisis of my 
life was at hand, that I was to be put to the test 
again. 

The night had almost drawn to a close when I finished 
reading my diary. I stepped to the window; I breathed 
the fresh night air, which bore to me the perfume of the 
flowers in the park. Did Hermann live? Was he near 
me? Had he been awakened from death by this Circe, 
to fall a victim again to her allurements? 

Although the thought that Hermann might be alive 
pleased me, I shuddered when I looked into the lucid 
clouds which occasionally veiled the moon; I shuddered 
when I pictured to myself that group. 

Was it my brother’s ghost, or was it he come to life 
again? His face was so deathly pale; and the tone of his 
voice, which I thought I had heard before I lost con- 
sciousness, had not that clear, haughty sound; it was 
faint, tremulous and hollow, and produced with difficulty; 
there was nothing ghostly about it, and yet it was not like 
the voice of a living man; there was not that metallic 
ring in it which had made my brother’s voice so strong, 
so commanding. 

And now — did not the same faint sound of which I 
was thinking, reach my ear from below? 

I started. I listened. An illusion of the mind might 
have borne to me the echo of that voice. I bent over 
under the eaves of the window, which would hide me if 
any one were really down there. I strained my eyes in 
order to pierce the darkness, which was occasioned by 
the clouds. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 253 

Some one whispered down there. I heard steps on 
the gravel. A broad streak of light fell from between 
the clouds upon the ahorn-all4e^ from whence issued 
two figures arm-in-arm — the same whom I thought I had 
surprised in the arbor. 

That was Stephanie! and next her, a tall, slender, 
manly form — “ Hermann!” I cried, but not aloud, for my 
lips refused to utter a sound. 

I was greatly perplexed and inexpressibly agitated. I 
wanted certainty, but how was I to obtain it? 

Once again I looked out to convince myself, that my 
eyes, my ears, had not deceived me. 

They had both disappeared in the allee. 

I must go out. This time I was positive, I was fully 
conscious that it was no delusion. I had the right to 
know if my brother was still alive! 

How could I manage it? Stephanie no doubt used the 
small back gate in order to get out for her nocturnal 
walks, by bribing the gate-keeper. This gate must be 
opened to re-admit her. 

I decided quickly; wrapped myself in a dark water- 
proof; drew the hood over my head; went out into the 
broad, dark corridor; groped along the cold, stone walls; 
reached a narrow hall which led to a flight of narrow, 
steep steps, and by means of these reached the little 
gate. 

I pressed lightly on the massive bolt. It yielded, and 
to my delight I found myself under the ivy which hid the 
gate from outside. 

Scarcely had I reached the open air, when I felt as if 
I must call my brother’s name aloud — but fear stifled my 
voice. I felt as if I were wandering at night in a cem- 
etery; a fear of ghosts, such as I had felt when a child, 
possessed me. The convent seemed so ghostly to me, 


254 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

the scent of the flowers which the prioress so carefully 
tended, seemed death-like, and over there in the ahorn- 
allee walked the ghosts — and now I sought them in 
vain. I had succeeded in finding a hiding-place under 
a weeping mountain-ash which stood in the middle of the 
lawn. Here I threw the hood of my cloak from my 
head. I was almost suffocated and was^ obliged to 
cool my face in the night air. I clung to the trunk 
of the tree. I strained my eyes. The moonlight cast a 
mist before them. The trees in the alUe seemed to 
change places. A soft night-breeze blowing amongst the 
leaves cast shadows on the path; in the quiet which sur- 
rounded me, a dead ash-leaf startled me, as it fell upon 
the sand. 

I saw nothing positive, yet I saw so many things, I 
was not in a condition to know what I really did see. 
Fear was joined with my excitement. 

The face which I thought I saw so q5lainly from my 
window had vanished. The maple trees were playing at 
hide-and-seek; the branches swayed by the wind, or 
rather the shadows of the same, seized one another and 
escaped respectively, but the two forms were no longer 
there. 

My fear changed to anxiety. I was quite alone in 
the great convent park, in the flower-garden, which 
adorned the fagade of the building. Down there toward 
the neighboring village lay the pond, and on both sides 
stretched the paths to the woods, which were no longer 
enclosed by walls, for they had long ago crumbled away. 
I wished to hasten back to my room, but I feared to 
make a step. 

Suddenly the tower-clock in the village gave out a 
number of strokes, the first of which made me start. 
I wished to take advantage of the last strokes, in order, 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 255 

like a timid child, to reach the convent while they were 
sounding, when another face arose before me. 

The tall, slender form of a man, at times lighted up 
by the moon, came slowly up the allee. It must have 
appeared quite suddenly in the middle of the allee, for 
it arose as if out of the earth. 

Now this form stepped out of the allee on to the adjoin- 
ing lawn. Perfectly erect it stood there, put its hands to 
its eyes, looked over to me, seemed to have discovered 
me, and then let its arm drop. 

“Sir Arthur Wardley!” cried I, inaudibly, clinging 
closer to the tree -trunk. 

That was Sir Arthur’s form — that was his handsome 
face — that was his blonde beard. How in the name 
of Heaven came he here? It was probably some new 
illusion, and I felt positive that what I had seen 
before was the same. 

I was in such a condition that only one thing was 
clear to me; that I was clinging to the tree-trunk with 
both hands, with closed eyes, and my forehead pressed 
against the trunk. By that means I thought I should 
be able to recover, to collect my thoughts, to gain strength 
and composure, so that I might get the better of that 
illusion, and again seek my room. 

Then suddenly I heard a soft, scarcely audible sound, 
like steps on the lawn. 

I closed my eyes tightly, but grew more nervous. I 
heard quite plainly and quite near me, a low, melodious 
voice saying: 

“ Countess von M., it is I, Arthur Wardley!” 

The same slightly English accent was in those words, 
as when I heard Sir Arthur speak once before. This 
accent was so impressed upon my memory, that I fancied 
he was close to my ear. 


256 I THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

Some seconds passed, during which I was seized with 
a kind of giddiness. 

“ If I am mistaken in the person, I beg your pardon!” 
I heard the same voice say. 

Ghosts speak not so. Swift as lightning the thought 
passed through my mind, that I was standing opposite a 
human being. 

I opened my eyes wide; I gathered all my courage 
in order to look in the direction from whence the voice 
came. 

There stood Sir Arthur Wardley, who inclined his head 
slightly, upon seeing that I noticed him. The moon 
shone brightly; his face, his form not to be mistaken. 

Gracious countess,” again said the pleasant voice, 
though in an undertone and carefully, I again beg 
your pardon if I annoy you. Circumstances will justify 
my appearance.” 

Circumstances! So Sir Arthur had been called hither 
by circumstances! 

“ Is it really you — Sir Wardley?” asked I, in a voice 
still tremulous with fear — and still doubting that it was 

he. 

‘‘ It is I, gracious countess,” said Sir Arthur’s voice. 
“ I thank Providence for leading me to you, if it is at an 
unwonted hour and upon this spot, to which perhaps the 
same interest led us.” 

“Sir Wardley,” answered I, gradually recovering from 
my fright, “ the strange hour of the night forces me to 
acknowledge that something brought me here of which 
I am ashamed, which will make me appear childish to 
you, if not — ” 

I could find no words with which to explain to this 
man why I was there alone at night. 

Sir Arthur came to my assistance. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 257 

“ May I ask, countess, what induced you to come to 
this convent?” 

Flight from a world which was loathsome to me, the 
desire to be far from it and alone.” 

“ No other motive?” asked he, with peculiar emphasis 
and a doubtful air. 

“ None!” answered I, surprised, looking into his face, 

“Not the presence of your brother in the village 
below?” 

“ My brother!'” cried I, forgetting our situation, “ My 
brother lives? Is it true? I beseech you to speak!” 

“ Did you not know that your brother lives?” 

“ Lives?” cried I, as a feeling of infinite joy agitated me. 

Involuntarily, unknown to myself, I seized Sir Arthur’s 
hand, and pressed it in mine, thus mutely thanking him 
for his words. 

Sir Arthur seemed convinced by that, that I spoke the 
truth. 

“Strange!” said he, half to himself, “and yet that 
may be accounted for.” 

“ Sir Wardley!” I continued, imploringly, “You surely 
know what a sister’s right is — I know nothing, but that 
they sought my brother’s corpse in vain — ” 

Silently, and with a polite bow, Sir Arthur took my arm 
and led me to a seat near, in the shadow of a group of 
trees, and seated himself next me. 

“ They should therefore, as I did, seek for the living, 
who are indeed often more difficult to find than the dead,” 
said he calmly. “To me, countess, when I read in the 
newspapers that Count von M.’s body had mysteriously 
disappeared, it was a two-fold duty to clear up the 
mystery, for I was the private attorney of my dear 
friend, whose entire future depended upon the life or 
death of this man. I therefore immediately left my 
17 


258 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

post, which I wished to leave anyway, in order to follow 
my friend, the traces of whom I never had lost. I am 
independent, and could therefore get away. 

“ My first inquiries I made at your castle. The Intend- 
ant received me, grateful for my pains, as I gave out 
that I was a friend of yöur brother. At that time, eight 
days had passed since the catastrophe. With his co-op- 
eration, I succeeded in sounding the peasants who had 
seen the groom disappear in the thicket with your 
brother’s bloody body. Led by them, I followed the 
trail. 

“Upon the way the thought did not desert me that 
the groom had been informed beforehand by his master 
of the motive of his suicide. I could not believe the 
general opinion that the groom had had plans for his own 
advantage; I rather suspected an understanding between 
the two, which the confidence between master and man, 
as portrayed to me by the intendant, justified. 

“Caution inspired me with the thought of depending 
entirely upon myself, and to that caution do I owe the 
solution of a mystery, which, I see, would have remained 
such even to you. 

“ I left the castle and repaired to the small, neighboring 
town; heard there the different views of the people con- 
cerning the strange affair; heard of the awkward, unsuc- 
cessful attempts of the police; read their official announce- 
ments, and engaged apartments in an hotel opposite the 
house of the doctor who attended Count von M.’s 
family. 

“ Instinct and chance combined had guided me aright. 
I saw the doctor drive away two evenings in the same 
direction at a certain hour, and return very late. The 
third evening I had a horse ready to follow him at a 
distance. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 259 

That evening also, the doctor’s carriage took the same 
direction. It led me, as I had supposed it would, in the 
neighborhood of the castle, then took another road and 
stopped before a palatial building, which must have stood 
there years unfinished — ” 

“ My poor father’s mansion, the erection of which was 
interrupted by his death,” I uttered, involuntarily. “It 
was intended for my brother.” 

“Just so. So I was told. I was convinced that my 
suspicion was confirmed. The servant must have suc- 
ceeded in dragging the half-dead man to that place; 
that assured me that, as ten days thereafter, the doctor 
still visited there, the Count von M., although perhaps 
fatally wounded, was still alive. 

“ I need not tell you, countess, how loudly, how joy- 
fully my heart beat at this discovery. The character of 
one of the most horrible duels on record might now be 
changed by the gracious disposition of God. 

“The laws of honor had been satisfied; if Count von 
M. were alive, then could my poor friend return to life — 

“I understand you, countess,” continued Sir Arthur, 
whom I had interrupted by a cry of joy which escaped 
me. “ My first thoughts turned to the possibility of a 
reconciliation, were it even to take place at the death- 
bed of one of the rivals. Let me continue. I saw the 
doctor drive away in half an hour; saw an empty basket 
being carried to the conveyance by a man, and thought 
I recognized in him the Count von M.’s servant who had 
accompanied him at the Residence upon his rides. 

“ At any rate, the doctor was in the secret, so that the 
servant could care for his master. 

“ Count von M. had forfeited his life, and if he were 
alive it must be kept secret; perhaps even the doctor’s 
help had been called for against the will of the 


260 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

wounded man — so I concluded from what I later heard 
and saw. 

For hours I loitered about the half-finished building, 
which, at the most, contained only a few inhabitable 
rooms, that had been occupied by the surveyor; I saw a 
light in one of the rooms; 1 heard low voices in the cor- 
ridor; there must be several people about the wounded 
man; indeed, I saw the face of a young woman, who 
opened a window to let in the fresh air. 

“ The next morning I called upon the doctor. I 
stated to him that a friend of mine, who had been 
seriously injured in a duel, was in a castle near by. I 
begged him to accompany me to him quickly, as my car- 
riage was waiting, and asked him to maintain the deepest 
secrecy. 

“ The doctor was startled. The details which I gave 
him surprised him; he saw that the secret had been 
betrayed, and wished to know who I was. I had no 
occasion to hide that, and informed him that I was in 
the secret, and it was most important to me that it be pre- 
served. This brought him to terms, and from that time 
forth I was daily informed of the condition of his patient, 
whose wound was very dangerous, as the bullet, which 
had been directed toward his heart, by pressure upon the 
lock of the weapon, had glanced off and probably injured 
his lungs. 

The doctor said that he might recover, but that his 
days were numbered. As for the rest, he was being 
tended with the greatest of care by a young woman, a 
French woman, who had been brought up in the count’s 
family.” 

“ Eugenie!” cried I. “ It is Eugenie!” 

‘‘So I heard her called, countess. She has devoted 
herself to nursing the count with the most praiseworthy 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 261 

assiduity, and only to this assiduity, says the doctor, will 
he owe his recovery, if he can be kept alive.” 

“ Eugenie! Eugenie!” whispered I to myself. “ Always 
Eugenie! But how came she to penetrate the mystery?” 
I added aloud. 

“ That I do not know, countess; I believe I have heard 
that she followed the groom that evening, and from the 
very first, has undertaken the care of the count.” 

“That was why we could not find her — noble, self- 
sacrificing soul!” 

Sir Arthur did not understand my exclamation, or 
paid no attention to it. 

“ After my first visit to the doctor, I telegraphed to 
New York in the care of the business house with which 
my friend, Otto von Radom, is connected. I told him 
to await a letter from me in New York, and sent one olf 
by the next steamer. In that letter I entreated him to 
return at once; I represented to him that by the deed of 
Count von M., in which evidently God had been with us, 
the matter was settled; I implored him not to be implac- 
able toward himself; not to destroy himself by a false 
feeling of honor. I told him that his life had been 
saved at the same time as Count von M.’s, and concluded 
with the hope, yes, with the command, which I, as attor- 
ney in this matter, considered my right, that he would 
return. I knew that he would come, for I knew what 
he had suffered.” 

“ Is he here? Sir Wardley, has he arrived?” I inter- 
rupted eagerly. 

“Yes, countess! He has come, but does not dare to 
appear before you, as long as no reconciliation has taken 
place between him and your brother.” 

What I felt at that moment can not be expressed 
in words. My heart exulted ; I could not control 


2C2 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

myself, although I tried not to betray my delight to Sir 
Arthur. 

“But — my brother,” I was finally able to gasp, “my 
brother, how came he here? What led him to this” — 

“I know not!” interrupted Sir Arthur, with a stern air 
and an appearance of displeasure. “ I only surmise that, 
borne down by suffering and loneliness, he placed his 
secret in hands which were unworthy of it.” 

I understood his meaning; he referred to Stephanie, 
and wished me to know that they both had chosen the 
seclusion of this neighborhood — she, the convent, and he, 
the neighboring village, so that, as he was able to take 
the ten-mile ride, they might meet one another surrepti- 
tiously. What was kept secret from the sister, she might 
know; and the sister was left to mourn her brother as 
dead. Hermann, notwithstanding his present condition, 
was just the same as ever. 

In the meantime, another question was on my tongue, 
which I only ventured to approach in a round-about 
way. Sir Arthur very likely had expected it. 

“ And — Herr von Radpm — where is he?” 

My voice trembled. 

“To-morrow, gracious countess,” said Sir Arthur, 
rising, “ I hope I shall be able to answer that question. 
Allow me to escort you back.” 

Sir Arthur offered me his arm, which I timidly and 
silently refused. 

“ I must return as I came. No one must see me, still 
less you. Sir Wardley.” 

He seemed to agree with me. Very deliberately and 
ceremoniously he led me back to the alUe and left me 
with a respectful inclination, considerately waiting under 
the trees, and watching me until I had disappeared 
under the shadow of the old wall. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 2G3 

As I, after reaching my room undetected, looked 
down from my window upon the garden and park, quiet 
reigned below. The soft night wind gently swayed the 
branches of the maples to and fro, and cast variable 
shadows upon the gravel; in the flower-beds the buds 
inclined toward one another, and in the distance the 
frog’s melancholy tones were to be heard. 

For hours I sat at my window. I wished to see Ste- 
phanie return. She came not. My heart joyously 
awaited the morning. 

Hermann lived; Radom was perhaps quite near me. 
Instead of seeking repose, I threw myself beside my bed 
upon my knees, and besought God to make my brother 
well, and to bless that noble friend’s attempt to bring 
about a reconciliation, and also to bless that same friend 
who had that night brought me such welcome news. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

How far had I been from believing that I should yet 
bless Stephanie’s appearance at our peaceful convent! 

My brother lived! So far recovered as his injured 
lungs would allow, the old passion for Stephanie had 
again possessed him. Unaware of my presence here, 
they had met in my immediate neighborhood, and Sir 
Arthur had followed my brother hither. 

The former kept his promise to me. That morning 
while I, very much agitated, and racked alternately by 
pleasure and pain, awaited Sir Arthur’s message, he was 
bringing matters to a head. 

With all the tenacity and determination of which he 
was capable, he appeared before my brother the next 
morning, as he was preparing to take his morning walk. 


264 . THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

Hermann, suffering, and only a shadow of his former 
self, received him — so I learned later — standing erect, 
defiance in his eyes, as if the Englishman’s presence 
were an insult to him, as if he saw in him a warning 
which was unnecessary. Yet his face betrayed a certain 
anxiety, as if he felt guilty, because he was still amongst 
the living. 

“ You are aware, sir count,” began Sir Arthur, with 
imperturbable equanimity, “that the mandate given me 
by my friend, Baron von Radom, has not yet expired, 
and by virtue of the same I am here to-day, as your 
attorney is not in town.” 

Hermann examined him from head to foot, while Sir 
Arthur had an opportunity to notice the deathly pallor 
upon my brother’s emaciated face. 

“ You are right, sir,” answered he, in a firmer voice. 
“ Receive my apologies and the assurance that uncalled- 
for assistance and interference have prolonged a life to 
which I have no right, and to end which your presence 
affords me a chance.” 

Hermann ^turned, laid his hand , upon a case, opened 
the same, and wanted to take out one of the pistols that 
■were in it. 

Silently, but authoritatively, Sir Arthur laid his hand 
upon the weapon. 

“Not for one second have I doubted,” said he, calmly, 
“that Count von M. would forget his duty as a cavalier; 
in fact, I know that he has carried out all instructions to 
the letter, and consider it only right that I should 
acknowledge it to him. My part it was, sir count, to 
see that what was ordained was carried out. When I saw 
that Providence had guided the bullet which was directed 
against your heart, I was justified in considering the 
matter fully settled, yes, in opposing all further action. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 265 

Therefore, I called my unhappy friend from across the 
ocean, and am to-day before you to ask in his name a 
reconciliation, sir count, which you can not very well 
refuse! Take my hand, sir count; its pressure shall 
interpret my admiration, and my friend’s honorable 
intentions, which you can not reject.” 

Hesitating, undecided, struggling with himself, Her- 
mann stood there. 

Sir Arthur’s offer may have seemed in his eyes 
magnanimity, which his ^ pride refused to accept; his 
pride which even his suffering had not broken. 

“You hesitate, sir count,” ventured Sir Arthur. “It 
is certainly not my right to remind you that you thought 
to find an enemy to your family in one of the noblest, 
best and most honorable of men, because the intrigues 
of others pointed him out to you as such — intrigues by 
which you are now surrounded, or rather 7vere sur- 
rounded, for I doubt if Baroness von Ebersburg will 
show herself again in this neighborhood when she has 
seen me, for since this morning I have no cause to avoid 
the light.” 

Hermann listened haughtily and suspiciously. His 
gaze, which had rested upon the ground, was now raised 
to Sir Arthur. 

“When I first had the honor, sir count,” continued 
the latter, “of seeing her in Paris, this undeniably beautiful, 
yes, w’onderfully beautiful woman, was in a position, which 
she did not hesitate to leave without any scruples or any 
consideration for her honorable family, to take the road 
which in Paris is called the ^ chemin du paradis' I, 
who had just won my diplomatic spurs, was permitted to 
lend her a helping hand, for which she thanked me with 
a few lines which were only signed with her Christian 
pame, though it gave me some of her hand-writing. 


266 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

Allow me to hand this to you. I have never ceased to 
regret that such a lovely woman could stray from the 
path of virtue. I gladly congratulated her, when I saw 
her in Paris, upon having captivated such a gallant cava- 
lier as Count von M.; but since she has plotted against my 
friend, Radom, who once saw her in Paris; since she in 
conjunction with Captain von Langenbach, as I am ready 
to prove, conspired against my friend’s happiness and 
honor; since I have seen her here in the same capacity; 
I do not consider myself bound to any discretion.” 

Hermann’s pale countenance during Sir Arthur’s 
speech was several times suffused with a deep, hectic 
blush. 

Hesitatingly he took the scented note, cast a glance at 
it, crushed it, and let it fall upon the floor. 

“ I am ready, sir count, to give Captain von Langen- 
bach satisfaction for what I have said, in case you, as 
his friend, demand it. This hand I offer you, sir count, 
in the name of Baron von Radom, with the assurance of 
complete disinterestedness, of the acknowledgment of 
the chivalry of his opponent, whom from this time forth 
he will be proud to call his friend.” 

Sir Arthur’s words were probably chosen with diplo- 
matic shrewdness, in order to flatter my brother’s vanity. 

It had the desired effect; still, he seemed to mistrust 
Sir Arthur, who, he suspected, was probably trying to 
seize him unawares. 

Irresolute, uncertain, wrought up by the sudden 
appearance of the Englishman, angry with him for 
denouncing a person whom he in his heart knew to be 
unworthy, but who had again inspired him with passion 
— his nervous system was so shocked as to render him 
incapable. of understanding or judging clearly. 

Sir Arthur saw my brother’s eyes suddenly grow dim, 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THK HEART. 267 

saw his face assume a leaden hue, saw his tall form 
totter, saw him raise his arms as if seeking for help, 
and the next moment Hermann lay in Sir Arthur’s 
arms. 

This was proof that he had exacted too much from 
the sick man; he saw his lips covered with a bloody 
moisture, and dragged him into the poverty-stricken 
room of the country-inn, in order to call assistance. 

George hastened in and anxiously worked over him, 
bringing forth from a small chest all the medicines which, 
according to the doctor’s instructions, he was accustomed 
to use and which generally overcame these attacks. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

It was II o’clock in the morning when I received Sir 
Arthur’s message to hasten to the village. 

Without any suspicion of what had happened, filled 
with the most blissful expectations, I flew through the 
park. 

At the end of it Sir Arthur met me. With great 
anxiety I sought to read his features, but they betrayed 
nothing which could give me cause for hope or fear. His 
face was very calm. 

“Gracious countess,” said he, “I was obliged to send 
for you, for our patient may need your help; in any 
case a deed must be hastened, which I can not delay, 
even though I may seem unfeeling.” 

“ Our patient ” — I looked at him interrogatively and 
anxiously. 

“ Is my brother in danger?” asked I, trembling. 

“It would be difficult for me to tell,” he answered 


268 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

quietly. “ He does not at any rate seem to be out of 
danger.” 

‘‘You have spoken to him, Sir Wardley?” 

“I have.” 

“You torture me, Sir Wardley! Be frank with me!” 

“I am, countess.” 

Here he was suddenly interrupted. He stopped 
speaking and fastened his eyes on a side path which led 
into the street. 

“Stephanie!” whispered I, and my hand trembled upon 
Sir Arthur’s arm. 

Indeed, she had just emerged from the forest, through 
which the path leading to the village ran; that explained 
to me the object of those walks, upon which I had 
watched her set out. Here in the thicket had she met 
my brother, and here had she awaited him, was perhaps 
even now expecting him. 

Stephanie, dres.sed as usual in black silk, some dark, 
gauzy material over her luxuriant hair, was paler than I 
had ever seen her. She stood a moment motionless, 
staring at us. Suddenly she turned and disappeared in 
the woods. 

Evidently the sight of Sir Arthur had startled her, and 
caused her to turn so hastily, for I observed that she had 
gazed at him in visible perplexity. 

I knew nothing of any connection between Stephanie 
and this man; but I now understood why Sir Wardley 
had spoken of my brother placing his secret in unworthy 
hands, that night when I asked him what could have 
brought my brother to this neighborhood. 

“ Do you know that lady?” asked I, quickly, as 
Stephanie disappeared. 

“I know her!” was his short answer, in a tone which 
sounded almost contemptuous. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 269 

I imagined that Sir Arthur probably had the same 
reason that his friend, Radom, had, for speaking of her 
in such a way. 

“ Is my brother prepared for my visit?” asked I, feeling 
that he did not wish to be questioned any further on the 
subject. 

“ No, gracious countess. I am afraid the talk we had 
together, which was unavoidable, was too exciting. His 
condition causes me much uneasiness. I must warn you 
that it may be necessary to avoid all conversation that 
could affect him in the same way, for I was obliged to 
ask more of him than I can answer for?” 

Silently we passed through the village. Sir Arthur led 
me into a tolerably clean inn. 

“ Do not be uneasy,” said he, at the door, half aloud, 
“ at your brother’s condition. I have already sent a mes- 
senger to the nearest town to telegraph for his doctor, 
who will understand him the best.” 

Sir Arthur conducted me into a narrow room, pointed to 
a door in the same, and asked me to wait until he called 
me. 

“He is over there! — Caution!” whispered he. “I 
shall have the honor as soon as possible — ” 

With that he withdrew. 

Immediately afterward I heard a voice saying in the 
next room: 

“ Gracious count, the Englishman is here and begs 
permission — ” 

If I were not greatly mistaken, that was George’s 
voice, which, with its half-peasant dialect, I recognized. 

So George was still with him; he had not forsaken his 
master, but had saved his life. How gladly would I 
have begged this fellow’s pardon, for I had judged him 
falsely! 


270 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

I now heard a languid voice — it was my brother’s. 
How it made me tremble when I heard it for the first 
time! 

“ It would be better if he would leave me in peace. 
But I don’t care! This is the last of me, I know! You 
see now, George, w^hat a foolish thing you did, when you 
had me patched up by the doctor against my wishes. 
Had it not been for you I should have died then; you 
only, as it was, made me new trouble and compromised 
me with strangers. Do you know, George, I would like 
to speak with this Englishman once more — ” 

His voice grew weaker. There was a pause. 

** Only think, George, this Englishman comes here and 
slanders my friend Langenbach, and then the Baroness 
von Ebersburg. What do you say to that?” 

“Your excellency, we servants can always judge the 
intimate friends of our masters better than the masters 
themselves. Captain von Langenbach is a handsome and 
amiable gentleman, but I have always felt as if he thought 
more of himself than of you. I have never said anything 
against him, but when he left the castle and did not even 
express a desire to show you the last respect, I did not 
like it at all.” 

“ H’m.. that was my wish!” 

“Well, yes, you also told me that an hour after I had 
heard the shot I was to come and carry your body to the 
castle. But I acted according to my own heart and 
mind.” 

“And the baroness, George? You may tell me all, if 
you happen to know anything about h'er. I may, per- 
haps, have time to see her once more. I should like to 
know if it be worth while.” 

“ I know nothing of her except that occasionally at 
the Residence it seemed to me as if she were very 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 271 

intimate with the captain; but I may have been mistaken, 
excellency, and I would rather not say anything.” 

It was strange that my brother should converse so 
confidentially with his servant! He, who had always con- 
sidered every one beneath him; who formerly would 
scarcely listen to his friends’ suggestions; now that he 
was helpless and deserted, listened to the advice of this 
unprincipled fellow, who was at least honest in every- 
thing relating to his master. 

“So you think, George, that I should accept the recon- 
ciliation that Baron von Radom offers me?” asked Her- 
mann, after a long silence. 

My heart beat so wildly at this question that it almost 
deafened me. 

As yet I knew nothing of that which Sir Arthur and 
Hermann had spoken about; I now concluded that he 
had not only made communications concerning Stephanie 
and Langenbach, but that he had also undertaken the 
work of reconciliation. 

And George was to advise him! This fellow must 
have obtained great power over his master by his 
devotion, and I trembled to think that such a common 
person as he, was called upon to decide so momentous 
a question. 

“Gracious count,” I heard George say, “I know 
nothing of what must take place when two noble gentle- 
men quarrel; of such a duel as this was, I never had 
any conception until I saw you lying on the grass 
weltering in your blood. But as your excellency, 
as I have heard — be not vexed with me! — insulted 
the baron, I think if he offers you his hand that 
you should accept it; such things must have an end, 
too.” 

1 could have embraced the fellow I Breathless with 


272 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

excitement I put my ear to the door. But for several 
minutes all was still. 

“George, help me! Raise me!” I heard my brother 
say with difficulty. 

“ It would be better if the gracious count would be 
still. The Englishman has sent a messenger to town to 
telegraph for our physician, and your excellency should 
spare yourself until he arrives.” 

“ Raise me, George! Those cursed pains are not so 
troublesome when I am in an upright position.” 

“If your excellency commands me; but it is not 
right.” 

Again a pause. 

“Now ask the Englishman to enter. And one thing 
beforehand, George. I have just thought that it would 
be well to send my mother word at once that her son is 
still alive, if it is worth while, for — ” 

“At your pleasure, excellency.” 

I felt a pang in my heart. His mother! He did not 
yet know that she was awaiting him by her side in the 
dismal vault! And he only now thought of consoling 
her with the news of his existence. One single sign 
given her at the right time might have saved our poor 
mother’s life, for she had only been killed by grief for 
her son; and to-day I had to listen to a servant advis- 
ing his master. Still, I could understand my brother’s 
behavior. 

His pain, his isolation, his present life, had robbed 
him of the one thing which he had known how to value 
or over-value in life; his own word, his own superiority 
in everything. He was passing a life outre-tombe which 
filled him with bitterness, with scorn and mockery of all 
things, even with envy of the worm at his feet. 

A noise interrupted my thoughts, The front door 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 273 

slowly Opened and shut. I heard steps in the next room, 
but for some seconds no sound of human voices. 

Then I heard my brother’s. 

“Sir baron, you yourself come to admonish me!” cried 
he, with an effort. “ My servant foolishly disobeyed 
my orders, but you may take my word for it, there will 
only be a short reprieve, which is scarcely worth a bullet. 
I have fulfilled my duty, though somewhat clumsily; 
however, as things are, it can not matter to you if I draw 
a few breaths more or less.” 

“Sir count,” I heard the same voice say that had 
always stirred my soul, but which now exercised such a 
blissfully surprising effect upon me, that I was obliged 
to lean against some object, so as to stand upright. 
“ Sir count, receive the assurance that no moment of my 
life was more appreciated than that in which I received 
the news from my friend across the sea, that God’s own 
hand had mercifully prevented an act which in our pas- 
sionate blindness and precipitation we were answerable 
for. Now I stand before you, and offer you the hand 
of friendship! Nothing according to the laws of honor 
accords you the right to refuse it; however, I only desire 
yours of your own free will, and hope that you will for- 
give and forget what has taken place between us.” 

Again there was a pause. I held my breath. Every- 
thing depended upon Hermann’s answer. All the joy 
which had been awakened in me, crept back fearfully 
and tremblingly at the possibility of Hermann’s rude, 
imperious will again over-mastering him. Could I only 
have seen him — no doubt he was just the same as when 
he had tried to rule me, although he was ill. 

“Sir Baron von Radom,” began he finally, in a low 
voice, “I am grateful to you for your sentiments. You 
know the cause of our falling out; as long as that exists, 
18 


374 THE ©«LÖOTHA OF THE HEART. 

I shall be obliged to look upon it as the motive for your 
present manner of acting.” A coughing spell interrupted 
his speech. “If I saw fit to accept your hand, you 
would have to give me your word of honor beforehand 
that you renounce all claims to my sister, for it would be 
silly and inconsistent in me, and a sign of defeat, were I 
to grant, after our rencontre^ what before was the cause 
of our enmity. With your hand I must therefore receive 
the assurance that no selfish aim actuates you to this 
honorable step!” 

“ That assurance, sir count, I give you, for I was pre- 
pared for it.” 

Radom’s words sounded forced, as if wrung from his 
heart, a heart capable of such noble self-sacrifice. With 
them my hopes were dashed to the ground. His words 
sounded to me like my death-knell. 

“ I also, sir count, add one condition, if it is only our 
purpose to conclude a treaty of peace,” continued Ra- 
dom. “ My condition is that the hand of the Countess 
von M. shall not be given to a man whose unworthiness 
I am fully convinced of. I was not acting for myself, 
but rather for the freedom and happiness of a lady, whom 
to renounce, although it cost me much, fate demanded 
when we became sworn enemies. I was fighting less for 
myself than for her.” 

“We are agreed, sir baron.” Hermann’s voice grew 
fainter and fainter. “ There is only one thing more for 
me to do, and that is to thank you from the bottom of 
my heart for the way in which you have acted, although 
I shall not gain much benefit from it, for the life which 
I prolonged is scarcely worth anything — 

“George, help me!” I heard him call out loudly. 
“ Thank you, George,” continued he, still coughing. “I 
do not believe I shall, await the doctor’s arrival. My 


THE GOLGOTHA OK THE HEART. 275 

way is further than his is, and though I may have some 
time before I enter upon it, I must prepare for it.” 

Hermann’s words, which were uttered in a weak voice 
and with increasing effort, made me anxious. I wanted 
to go out, to go to him, but I feared an outbreak of his 
displeasure. 

“Help me to that chair again, George,” he continued, 
almost breathlessly. “ It is lighter there. All is so 
dark to me. That is well. Now leave us; I have more to 
say to the gentlemen here.” 

Again there was a pause, during which my anxiety 
increased. 

“ Sir Wardley,” again began Hermann, raising his voice, 
which was growing weaker, with difficulty. “ You were 
once the witness and attorney of Baron von Radom; I 
must make use of you in the same capacity. If I were 
better, I should have this gentleman to thank for my 
life. It is not his fault that I am in this condition, not 
his fault that I am no better; I therefore am in his debt. 
Be kind enough to, take a pen, a pencil, or whatever is at 
hand, and write the following — ” 

Hermann stopped. His voice was low, and he evi- 
dently was gathering up all his strength. 

“ I am ready, sir count,” I heard Sir Arthur say. 

“I thank you! Now write. They are a few lines for 
my mother, which my hand is not able to write. Write 
this: At the hour of my death — ” 

A cry of anguish escaped my lips. Hermann might 
have heard me. He stopped. Then I heard him con- 
tinue. 

“ At the hour of my death, which I believe has arrived, 
I pray my mother. Countess von M., whom I can not bid 
farewell in person, by virtue of the authority given me 
by my father, to give my sister Paula, to whom 1 leave 


276 


THE GOLGOTHA OP' THE HEART. 


my last greeting, within a year from to-day, in marriage 
to Baron von Radom, a nobleman to press whose hand 
in my last hour of life I consider the most sacred and 
last duty of my utterly-ruined life.” 

I heard no more. My thoughts grew confused. I 
knew not what I did. Pressing the rusty lock of the 
door, I pushed it open, and the next second I lay at my 
brother’s feet. 

“Hermann!” cried I. I clung to his knees; I looked 
up at him, but my eyes were dimmed with tears. I could 
not see him; I only heard his voice say: 

“ Paula, you!” then a cold hand grasped mine and held 
it tightly. 

I felt a violent convulsion of his hand, of his limbs. 
Firmer, colder, and icier his hand pressed mine. 

When the tears flowed from my eyes over my cheeks, 
I could see clearer. I saw one of my brother’s hands 
clasping mine. I saw Radom kneeling beside me, his 
hand in my brother’s. 

With an exclamation I tried to rise, for Hermann’s 
head had sunk against the back of the chair, and his eyes 
were fixed. 

“My brother — dead!” I cried out, looking into his 
eyes; then I sank into the arms of him who was kneeling 
next me. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

For the third time was our vault opened, this time to 
receive the dear one whom our beloved mother had 
awaited. 

It was Sir Arthur who attended to my unfortunate 
brother’s funeral. He was a great help to me, for “ good 


TH1-: GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 277 

form ” and respect for the world’s opinion forbade Radom 
taking any part in those sad arrangements. 

“ I have nothing else to do,” said Sir Arthur to me, as 
I told him not to work too hard. ‘‘For Otto’s sake I 
bade farewell to my whole career; indeed I had fully 
made up my mind to set up a v/igwam with him some- 
where on the Indian frontier — now I have nothing at all 
in view, and if you will allow me, countess, I shall try to 
make myself useful, and apply my technical talent to 
completing the building of the castle, which has so 
long stood unfinished. That will give me employ- 
ment for years, and through that, I shall have a pre- 
text for remaining near my friend and his charming — 
wife.” 

Hermann’s body was laid in the vault with great state. 
Sir Arthur had wished it so. At his desire, Radom was 
present. 

The king sent two of his adjutants; of Hermann’s 
friends several came from the Residence, but not Lan- 
genbach, who had sense enough to remain away; our 
castle was filled with guests. 

Confused as I had been by all the exciting incidents, 
I recovered more rapidly than I had anticipated. I now 
discovered, if such a thing were possible, how doubly 
dear the man was to me, whom I had mourned as lost; 
and Sir Arthur’s merry temperament, as far as it could 
at such a sad time, exercised a beneficial effect upon 
me. Upon Radom, his last experiences had had a deep 
and lasting effect. 

He had not been able to love my brother, neither had 
he hated him; Hermann’s conduct on his death-bed had 
convinced him that he, who in his lifetime was always 
amenable to trivial influences, at the last moment, when 
he had left them behind, was capable of a greatness of 


278 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

soul, to exhibit which to the world’s praise and flattery, 
he had not considered it worth his while. 

Only in those last moments had I been able to see any 
similarity to my father. 

He was of the same material, but had been spoilt by 
the influences brought to bear upon him; indeed, the 
sphere in which he moved was not favorable to any 
process of refining, which alone could develop in him 
what was noble and great. 

My brother’s last action made me forget all that I had 
suffered through him. A petty soul could not have 
acted so, and all the affection that he had been lacking 
in from childhood, I thought to have found in that one 
pressure which he gave my hand before his eyes closed 
forever. 

When the sad ceremonies led us from the chapel to the 
vault, Otto knelt beside me by the coffin covered with 
flowers. 

The departed had given him the right to do so, in 
fact, had imposed the duty upon him, for Hermann had 
in his last moments clasped his hand in brotherly love 
and blessed our union. 

Tears were in Otto’s eyes as we rose. 

When I once more knelt beside my parents* graves and 
offered up a fervent prayer to heaven for the dear ones 
who were united, my eyes fell upon a darkly clad figure 
standing at the head of Hermann’s coffin. 

I started. An exclamation of surprise escaped me. 
I had recognized Eugenie. 

Collecting myself, I followed Sir Arthur. 

We left the vault and I withdrew to the rooms pre- 
pared for me in the castle, which I was to occupy several 
days, in company with Gertrude and my maid, until I had 
decided upon my next move. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 279 

In the mood which had led me here I was cutoff from the 
entire outer world. Lost in meditation, only comforted by 
the thought that God had given back to me him who 
was all my future, I sat there for hours, until suddenly 
the recollection of that dark figure in the vault aroused 
me. 

“Eugenie! — Gertrude, I saw Eugenie to-day! She is 
here!” cried I. 

“She was indeed here, countess. I only caught a 
glimpse of her,” was the answer.' 

“ She must be sought for! She must not get away! I 
wish to see her!” 

This command seemed to Gertrude unwelcome. She 
hesitated. 

“Hurry, Gertrude! It was she who nursed my brother 
so devotedly!” 

Gertrude’s astonishment increased visibly. She had 
never concealed her disapproval of Eugenie’s conduct. 

“Call George! He must know something about her!” 
Gertrude was more inclined to go after what I told 
her. She hastened out and returned with George, who 
had, at his own wish, entered Sir Arthur’s service, until 
I could occupy the castle and give him a position for 
which he was fitted. 

George, who truly mourned his lost master, entered, 
clad in black, with sorrow and respect in his face and 
manner. 

He said that “Mademoiselle Eugenie,” as she was 
still called at the castle, had that morning come over 
from the neighboring village where, since the count had 
died, she had found shelter, and where she had been 
kindly received, for her husband had confessed that he 
had stolen the fifty guldens, on account of which poor 
Eugenie had been .so persecuted. 


280 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 

She had also been in the chapel, where, hidden in a 
corner, she had wept bitterly for the deceased count, for 
whom she would gladly have given her life, although he, 
during his terrible sufferings, had been very unkind 
to her. 

He had seen her leave the vault after the ceremony, 
but had not seen her again, for she always avoided 
notice. 

“ She must be sought for and messengers must be sent 
to the village! I must speak with her!” I whispered to 
George, who went to carry out my orders. Soon after I 
saw a messenger return to the castle. 

Gertrude reported to me that Eugenie was not to be 
found. And from the village came word that she had 
not returned. Some days later I received a letter, with 
the Residence postmark upon it. It was addressed in 
Eugenie’s hand. 

- Eugenie wrote to me in French that she was grateful 
to me for all the care I had devoted to her child. She 
was just about to call for her and return to France. 

* “ Do not seek for poor Eugenie,” was the way in which 
she concluded. “The grave and I guard a secret, and 
as I can not divulge it, I must go far away.” 

^ I understood what she implied, for they had again 
begun to try to fathom the Richtmann case in the 
village. 

All efforts were in vain. I was certain that Eugenie 
had taken quite a different route from that which she 
said she had, and indeed no trace of her could be found. 

* ^ 

In the autumn of the following year, my husband 
and I were to leave Ostende and go to the Pyrenees, 
where we were to meet Sir Arthur. 


THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART. 281 

The day before our departure we received a letter from 
him from Brigthon, in which he informed us that he 
would await us at home; he preferred returning to his 
castle, which required his presence. 

Hunting also called him there, and yet another reason; 
he wished to consider if he should propose to a pretty 
compatriot whom he had learned to love at Brigthon; 
this matter must be carefully weighed before he plunged 
into such a dangerous situation. 

Half an hour before we left. Marquis de Chevreux 
entered. He had recently recovered from an attack of 
nervous prostration and was here for the benefit of his 
health, and who, although not entirely ‘‘ disinfected from 
perfume,” as Radom expressed it, had been our daily and 
pleasant companion. 

We saw by his face that he had some news to impart. 

Guess whom I have just met!” he began, in a strangely 
agitated manner. 

^‘We have not the time to guess conundrums, dear 
Chevreux,” replied my husband, looking at his watch. 
“ The meeting must have been to you, at least, a very 
interesting one.” 

“An old acquaintance! Moreover, I have found her 
name in the visitor’s list which was just handed to me. 
Monsieur le Comte Bertoux,” read Chevreux, opening the 
list. 

“Bertoux — I remember having met him at the club 
in Paris,” said Radom, without interrupting his hasty 
preparations for our journey. 

“ Well, what besides?” 

“ Madame la Comtesse Bertoux, n4e Baroness Stephanie 
d’ Ebersburg de Paris,” read Chevreux, and looked at 
us to see the effect. 

“ I congratulate them,” said Radom, indifferently. “ It 


282 THE GOLGOTHA OF THE HEART, 

is an old love, I presume, for I believe that I saw that 
Bertoux with her once in Paris.” 

“You do not know that Baroness von Ebersburg 
inherited an immense fortune, indeed shortly after her 
disappearance from the Residence, from whence the poor 
creature was driven by the medisance of those who envied 
her?” said Chevreux, who was delighted to have again 
met her. “ They are on their wedding-tour.” 

“ God preserve them to you a long time!” With 
that Radom pressed our old friend’s hand before depart- 
ing. When we, at some distance from the hotel, waved 
our last farewell, he returned it by flourishing his hand- 
kerchief in the air. 

At the sight of that handkerchief, which we had not 
seen for so long a time, we both felt as if the sea-air 
w'ere suddenly impregnated with perfume from Sharon’s 
gardens, to which perfume he had returned, in spite of 
the physician’s warnings, since his nerves had in some 
degree been strengthened by the sea-baths. 


THE END. 


ZOLA’S MASTERPIECE. 



(Le Reve.) 


BY EMILE ZOLA. 

Authorized translation, done under the author’s supervision by 
Mrs. Etiza E. Chase. 


This, the latest work of the great leader of the modem “ realistic school," 
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turned to the study of innocence and parity becomes singularly sweet and 
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“The Dream" is written in the great novelist’s happiest, strongest vein, 
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person becoming a devout one, then of a saint turning Into a woman, psychology 
IS shown in every line. In all the descriptive parts Zola’s peculiar power is betrayed 
In the minutest detaUs.’’— Le Figaro (Paris). 


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4 THE MASTER OF THE MINE. By Robert Bnehannn. 

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7 A FIOHT FOR A FORTUNE. By F. du Bolsgobey. 

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50 A FALSE START. By Hawley Smart. 

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63 BARBARA. By the author of “Tracking the Truth.” 

64 THE passenger FROM SCOTLAND YARD. By H. F. Wood. 

6B HERR PAULUS By Walter Besant. 

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67 THE WRONG ROAD. By Arthur Griffiths. * 

68 KING OR KNAVE. By R. E. Franclllo». 

69 A REAL GOOD THING. By Mrs, Edward Kennard. 

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